Dark Times
by MurasakiNeko
Summary: The period leading up to Lily and James's death; includes why Remus Lupin was not chosen as Secret-Keeper, Peter as a spy for Lord Voldemort, Regulus Black's Death, and other pivotal First War events.
1. March 1980

I do not own Harry Potter.   
  
***  
  
"Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, your family, and your friends." -Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire  
  
***  
  
Remus Lupin gazed out at the London skyline from his window on the 6th floor of the Ministry building. There was a steady rain falling outside, giving the old buildings a glazed, hazy look. It was a sleepy, peaceful morning. He'd had the same view for nearly two years now, but he had not yet grown bored with it. It still astounded him how lucky he was, to be working in the Ministry fresh out of school, and, one promotion later, to be the Assistant Chair of the Department of Minorities. He'd been recommended by Dumbledore upon graduation and the Ministry had been glad to take him; he had passed N.E.W.T. History and his marks were all but perfect (ironically, only Sirius and James had ended up higher on the class rank list; a blow to Remus, who was considered by them to be the studious, bookish one). Dumbledore had known he'd be an excellent choice; he had had many Muggle-born and halfblood friends, not to mention a personal interest in certain oppressed groups. The department itself was crucial; in this day and age, with so much pureblood fervor, it was up to Lupin and his superiors to ensure that anti-Muggle terror laws and equality bills remained intact and enforced. When it came to adjusting and carrying out laws, Remus had practically no say- but when new laws wanted to be passed, they had to go through him first. It was a boost to his pride to be able to veto ridiculous proposals before even showing them to his superiors and a thrill to see those that he did pass appear as full-out laws only weeks later.  
  
1. He prodded the small cauldron behind his desk to heat up a cup of Ever-Brewing Tea, and sat down at his desk. It was old, wooden, not very spacious, but it was his. His office was humble, too, but he did not complain. After all, it had a great view. He had grown accustomed to his stable life: Every morning he woke in his flat on the outskirts of London, then Flooed to work. Usually Sirius stopped in for lunch, giving him a light break in the hours of law-making. Since Sirius wasn't as fond of schedules and timing as Remus was, he couldn't be expected at exactly noon, but at least he usually made an effort not to interrupt Remus's work.  
  
Today was one of the days he didn't. The door banged open and Sirius appeared, soaked entirely. He stepped into the office and immediately began to shake his head violently, like a dog, spraying water off his longish hair in every which direction.  
  
Remus dodged the blast. "Agghh! Sirius! Not all over the papers!" he laughed.   
  
"Hey, it's a habit," Sirius shrugged. "You can't spend every full moon as a dog without picking up some of the habits . . . and you can't talk; I've seen how you eat steak."  
  
"You could have worn a hat, you know," Remus admonished playfully.  
  
Sirius laughed his barklike laugh. "Are you kidding? I love the feel of the wind in my hair!"  
  
Remus grinned in understanding. "Ahh, the motorbike again. There wasn't much wind to be had in your hair this morning, was there?"  
  
"No . . . " Sirius stepped closer to Remus, " . . . just . . . RAIN!" He shook his head again and this time Remus could dodge at all. The two fell back into a pair of wooden chairs, laughing, Sirius a little dizzy.  
  
"So, what's been up, Moony?" Sirius asked for a moment.  
  
"Well, seeing as how I just saw you yesterday, nothing since then," admitted Remus. Then he sighed. "You still call me 'Moony.' Isn't it getting old?"  
  
"Nah. You'll always be Moony to me."  
  
Remus half-smiled. "Yes, but I just wonder sometimes if anyone would pick up what it means . . . "  
  
"If they didn't pick it up all the times we used it at Hogwarts, they're not going to pick it up now. You do realize that we've practically shouted about it in front of people before and no one's caught on. People aren't observant. They'd have to be outright told. Besides, it's not like you even look suspicious. Everyone thinks werewolves are this shifty, hairy, evil things. You're not exactly shifty. Maybe a little hairy . . . "  
  
Remus smiled again, though still mildly. Sirius poked him in the ribs. "Lighten up! This 9-to-5 job is making you serious."  
  
"I'm happy to have a job."  
  
"I wouldn't be. Seeing as how I don't have one," Sirius tipped back in his chair, balancing it on two legs as he had done since his first days at Hogwarts. Sirius's uncle had left him a substantial inheritance, so he was living in the same monetary situation he might have been if he had stayed an aristocratic Black- comfortable and disinclined to work. "I just get bored because I never have anyone to hang 'round with anymore. You're making laws and first James was working, but now he's on 'family leave'-- Auror privilege, since they die so young- spending all his time with Lily, since the baby's due in four months. And I don't even know where Peter's got to."  
  
"I haven't seen him in a while, either," shrugged Remus.  
  
There came a knock at the door, Sirius jumped up, his chair falling flat on its back to the floor. Lucius Malfoy appeared in the office, carrying a stack of papers. Sirius approached him.  
  
Lucius glowered down at him. "Excuse me, but I need to speak with Lupin, Mr. . . . er, what am I supposed to call you? For you're not really a proper Black, are you?" he sneered.  
  
"I don't want you to call me anything; I don't need your filthy tongue besmirching my name," Sirius said coldly.  
  
Lucius's lip twitched. "I was implying that there was no name to be had. Now, as I said . . . Excuse me."  
  
Sirius stepped aside with a mockery of a sweeping bow. Lucius pretended as if he meant it, ruining the effect. Sirius blushed slightly and swept some of his damp hair out of his eyes.  
  
Lucius set the papers on the desk. Lupin got to his feet to listen intently. "Now, these are proposals endorsed by a certain prominent society," he said edgily. "Some of the top wizarding families, including myself, have been signatories to them. I suggest you tend to them sooner than later, not at your leisure. I understand they must go through you first before moving on to the true authorities." He sounded as if he found this a great hassle. "Now, I must carry on with my own business--"  
  
"What, terrorizing Muggles?" Sirius cut in.  
  
Lucius glared at him. "No. Wedding plans. I suppose you wouldn't have heard, being the family reject, but I am betrothed to your former cousin. Our wedding is in a month."  
  
Sirius shook his head pityingly. "Narcissa could have done much better. Yet, then again, perhaps the two of you deserve each other."  
  
Lucius's lip curled again, but he spoke nothing and walked out. As soon as he was gone, Sirius slammed his fist on the table. "Agghh! Surely you're not going to take mad orders from HIM, are you?"  
  
Remus was sifting quietly through the papers. "I've been told to listen to Malfoy; he donates profusely to the Ministry . . . but this is ridiculous! Look at this: Banning Muggle-borns from Hogwarts, allowing wizard children to practice magic outside of school without Ministry intervention, legalizing the Unforgivable Curses! This is madness, that's what this is!"  
  
Sirius laughed and then blew a piece of hair up from his face by breathing sideways through closed lips. "I don't know about that practicing magic outside of school . . . I would have liked that when I was at Hogwarts."  
  
"Yes, but then the Muggle-born children wreak havoc on their siblings and blow up their house and their parents don't have inkling of an idea of what to do."  
  
"Yes, but if you ban all the Muggle-borns from Hogwarts, you don't have to worry about that, do you?" Sirius pointed out facetiously.  
  
Remus laughed and sighed at the same time.  
  
Sirius came over and leaned on him, placing his arm around his shoulder. "Look, Remus . . . you've got a conscience. You know this is rubbish. Don't let him walk all over you just because he's rich. I mean, this is the guy we drenched in pudding fifth year, remember? The same guy. Just because he's grown up and gotten a manor doesn't mean he's not still the same arrogant big-talking prat he always was. In fact, I'd say he's gotten worse. Just picture him in the pudding," Remus snorted; Sirius smiled again. "You wouldn't have taken orders from him when he was covered in pudding, would you? You wouldn't when he was Head Boy . . . you won't now, either."  
  
Remus pointed out some of the signatures. "Moon, Nott, Avery, Malfoy, Wilkes, Travers . . . those are a lot of important people to contradict."  
  
"Yeah, and I notice Crabbe and Goyle are on there, too. Do we really want to entrust our legislature to them? Wait a second- why's Regulus on there as a signatory? Since when do people propose laws endorsed by kid prats still at school?" Sirius scratched his chin. "Hmm, maybe that means dear old Father's popped his clogs, then. Regulus must just have filled in for him. Wish Father had taken Mum with him."  
  
"It could be he's just part of that 'secret society.'" pointed out Remus. "I bet you anything it's the Death Eaters. I'll set this down as a load of rubbish. Malfoy and his friends can just continue their little Muggle-hunts- which, I might add, are being even more closely monitored. Crouch is tracking Mulciber and Jugson now and I hear the Aurors have already killed Rosier. Don't like the killing bit; James was never for it, either. Hmm, maybe this could be useful- so many names, as if it were a blacklist."  
  
"Keep ahold of it, then," suggested Sirius. "Just, for the sake of Merlin, don't pass it." 


	2. April 1980

I do not own anything relating to Harry Potter. *Sigh* . . . 

***

"You'd been passing information to him for a year before Lily and James died! You were his spy!" -Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

***

Regulus Black sat up straight. His mother had jostled him with her elbow for now the third time, and it wasn't worth pushing her a fourth time. Still, it was so boring, the wedding ceremony, so much pomp and circumstance to listen to, and it wasn't even pomp and circumstance about the Blacks. He'd had to sit through the same thing two years ago, when Bellatrix had married. Both were marrying out of the family, so he had just been a guest, one saying goodbye to a cousin leaving for the Lestranges-- or, now, in the case of Narcissa, the Malfoys. Someday, Regulus would have to stand at the front of the great hall in 12 Grimmauld Place, surrounded by his family and those in their favor, marrying most likely a Slytherin girl he was presently in school with. He really wasn't terribly fond of any of them. 

Boring as the ceremony was, it was nice to be out of Hogwarts for a while. His seventh year had turned out to be a complete drag. Narcissa had graduated last year, so Regulus was the only Black left at the school. All of his cousins were off marrying and finding jobs and he felt babyish sitting back in school. It was making him quite restless. It was April; he only had a few months left. Then he could pass his Apparition test-- the only thing he had left to earn; he had become of age on his birthday back in August-- and leave for good. There was no need to worry about getting a job; he was the heir to the entire Black manor and all its fortunes. He was an aristocrat. The only thing he had to worry about was society betterment-- if one could call it that. For a year now, he had been part of a grand society of purebloods. The Fold. The Elite.

The Death Eaters.

Last summer, while visiting his grown cousin Bellatrix at her new home with the Lestranges, she had introduced him to the Death Eaters. He had known of the Dark Lord, of course, but he hadn't realized Bellatrix was in his inner circle. She took him under her wing, just as she had always done-- he her baby cousin-- and taught him all of the goals of the purist clan. Then, just days before his seventeenth birthday, he was inducted in himself. His parents were proud of him, pleased that he had taken a severe opposite step in the direction of his brother (disowned before Regulus's fourth year) and cousin Andromeda (who had left school to run off with a Mudblood only last year).

Hogwarts had been such a hassle since then. He and Bartemius Crouch, Jr., the only other schoolboy Death Eater (and one of Regulus's best friends) had missed countless meetings, and felt the burning wrath of their master in the Dark Mark singed into their flesh, unable to obey his call. Those meetings that they could attend, though, on weekends when they could Floo quickly away from Hogsmeade, were very useful to their master. He wanted their insider information, their knowledge on Dumbledore. They alone within Hogwarts walls knew all of the dark secrets of the Death Eaters, and they alone in the fold had access to the greatest enemy of the Dark Lord.

Narcissa stood at the front of the grand Malfoy ballroom, her tight blond curls spilling over her elaborate wedding gown, a symphony in green, white, and silver. Her skirt was belled and she held a fan of silver lace. Beside her Lucius Malfoy stood staunchly, dressed in a fine but simple black ensemble. The two carried solemn expressions; it was a well-known fact their marriage was for blood, not love. Still, the appearances were kept up.

Finally, after a symbolic kiss, during which magical sprays of green and silver sparks shot up around the couple, including an elaborate firework that very much recalled a snake, the benches in the hall dissolved into air and the guests were left standing on their feet for dancing. Regulus's parents slipped off to chat with Bellatrix and her husband Rudolphus, and Regulus went to search out Barty.

"Your parents aren't here, are they?" asked Regulus, once he had found his companion.

Barty laughed. "Of course not! Mum wanted to come, but she thought my father might be suspicious. He thinks I'm still at school. Apparently he's starting to suspect Wilkes now . . . I wasn't going to bring him right to him!" he jerked his shoulder at Wilkes, who was chatting over some champagne with Severus Snape. Then he lowered his voice, "You heard what happened to Evan Rosier, didn't you? How that Auror Moody finally got him?"

Regulus nodded grimly. "He was so loyal . . . so violent, but . . . " he sighed. "Martyr, that fellow . . . "

Barty grinned. "He took a chunk of Moody's nose when we went, though. Left his mark!"

The two companions laughed, and then suddenly gasped. Regulus felt a searing pain in his left forearm; he seized the Dark Mark with his right hand. The entire room seemed to have stood still; so many in the company were Death Eaters and had received the call.

Bellatrix was the swiftest to answer. She disappeared with a faint snap, followed closely by her husband, and brother-in-law Rabastan. Quickly the others began to Disapparate, their wives and non-Death Eater companions looking mildly forlorn but unsurprised.

Lucius Malfoy turned to Narcissa before he whisked himself away. "I'll see you tonight," he promised, though without much emotion, and Disapparated. Narcissa watched the empty floor where he had stood, her eyes cold. Her mother came to her side and placed her hand on her shoulder, much as one would comforting a wife whose soldier husband has gone off to war before the couple may call themselves a family.

Bartemius and Regulus had little time to waste watching the reactions of the other guests. Barty seized Regulus's arm, and the two went careening towards the large fireplace at the side of the hall. Bartemius seized a fistful of Floo, and, his hand still tight around Regulus's upper arm, shouted clearly, "The Riddle House!"

Regulus felt the familiar rush and swirl of color, his hair swishing about his face, Barty's grip cutting off his circulation. A second later, they were flying out of the sooty fireplace unto a dirty, old floor of a rotting house. Regulus moaned as he sat up and saw the damage done to his good dress robes.

"Stop whining and come on!" Barty commanded. "We'll fix it back at school! Shh-- I hear someone!"

The two got to their feet and pressed their backs to the wall. The old lame servant man was tending to the Riddle House again. Regulus and Barty had had to cross him on several occasions, and, to keep from having the Death Eater party discovered by the Ministry, they could not use magic to distract or hinder him, since they were still tracked by the Department of the Underage Wizardry. It would be death to them if they called out a Ministry force to the Riddle graveyard in time to catch every wanted man in wizard England.

By tiptoing sideways, shuffling against the wall, the two made it to the door. Regulus dashed forward and seized the handle, and he and Bartemius tore from the house, out of the gate, and down the hill. They did not look back to see if the old man had seen them. Once they had crested the hill, the circle of Death Eaters, all cloaked in black, were barely visible among the mist and darkness shrouding the dusky graveyard. Regulus felt immensely frivolous in his green dress robes-- and embarrassed by the rip-- but he could not conjure black robes just as he could not fix the rip or Stupefy the old Frank man.

The circle parted to allow the two in. Bartemius and Regulus quietly shuffled to their places beside Bellatrix and Rudolphus. Regulus felt a boney, feminine hand grasp his shoulder. "Fix your robes!" she whispered sharply. Then, realizing his predicament with his saying anything, she swished her wand over him and Regulus's torn dark green dress robes whirled into a black hooded cloak. Rudolphus quickly accompanied her by changing Bartemius. The two boys nodded to them in thanks.

The Dark Lord was busy; the tallest of them all, cloaked in a black hood and billowing robe himself, he commanded attention at the center of the circle. Today, joining him, was a fat, cowering, pathetic-looking young man. It took a moment for Regulus to recognize him as Peter Pettigrew, the fat little boy who had followed his brother around like a god when they had still been at school. He had always seemed so prepubescent then, and now he appeared to have gone to seed already. His appearance was that of middle age, but Regulus knew that he couldn't be more than twenty years old.

"Death Eaters," spoke the Dark Lord, his whispy, chilling voice commanding attention. "We are here to welcome a new member into the fold. Peter Pettigrew."

There was a surge of sporadic whispers that made a low hiss among the ranks. The Dark Lord sensed discomfort, and expatiated. "You all may know Pettigrew to be the Gryffindor, the friend to many of my great enemies, including the Auror James Potter. Yet, I ask you . . . is it not to our benefit to befriend those with internal connections? Pettigrew will provide us with wonderful insider information, as Rookwood has done for us within the Ministry, and Crouch and Black have done for us within the very walls of Hogwarts. And, after all," he laughed faintly, "knowledge of a fear decreases it, does it not?" 

There was a murmur of assent. Pettigrew continued to cower, his eyes lowered before the Dark Lord. "Pettigrew, your arm, please. The left."

Pettigrew lifted his arm tentatively, pulling back the sleeve with a shaking, clammy hand.

"Do you fear, Pettigrew?"

Pettigrew did not answer. The Dark Lord drew out a long, white finger from his cloak, attached to a hand whose skin appeared to have been long dead; it was waxy and cold, as if no blood ran beneath its surface. He placed his finger pointedly on Pettigrew's bare flesh, on the sensitive inner arm. There was a sudden flash of white light, followed by a second of blind repercussion. Pettigrew screamed. Regulus felt a surge of pain in his own Dark Mark; a memory of the own pain he had felt the first time he had felt the Dark Mark burn.

Pettigrew drew back, clutching his arm. He stared down at the black scar imprinted there. The Dark Lord laughed. "Welcome, Pettigrew!"

Suddenly, there came a shout from up on the hill; someone was approaching from the Riddle House. The man Frank appeared at the crest, shaking his fist and streaking down the hill towards the dark congregation. Several Death Eaters immediate leapt to action; Avery shouted, "Obliviate!" and Frank stopped, his eyes crossed vaguely. Mulciber finished it; he cried "Stupefy!" and the man keeled over. The Dark Lord stepped over to him, gazing down at him with disgust.

"Crabbe, Goyle, remove him," he commanded. The two thuggish men sauntered over and began to lift the body. The Dark Lord looked up, his masked eyes shooting straight to Bartemius and Regulus. Regulus felt the blood run out of his legs.

"Why did you not incapacitate him yourselves?" he demanded to know. "You are perfectly capable, skilled wizards. I have not taught you for nothing."

Regulus started to tremble uncontrollably, but Bartemius stood his ground-- though he kept his eyes lowered. Regulus felt Bellatrix poke him in the ribs; he was embarrassing her.

"The Ministry tracks spells from the youngsters," Moon spoke timidly in the boys' defense.

"Not any longer," said the Dark Lord coldly. "Lucius Malfoy has arranged the passing of laws allowing the youth free reign of magic."

Malfoy spoke with his head bowed. "They have not yet been passed, my lord," he confessed. "There has been a delay . . . a certain chair is being rather reluctant to bow to my wills."

Bellatrix stepped forward, her eyes agleam. "Master, allow me . . . allow me to persuade him," she held up her wand threateningly. "Who is it, Lucius?"

"Remus Lupin," replied Malfoy. "A mere neophyte, in the Ministry. He can be easily persuaded; there is no need to use Unforgivable Curses to drive the Ministry to our doors. Blackmail, mental terror, intimidation . . . so easy to use, so easy to cover . . . that should be the method in this case, Bellatrix."

"Yes . . . because your blackmail seems to be working so well," said Bellatrix smoothly. "I shall pay Lupin a little visit, I think . . . perhaps under the next full moon, for the perfect terror effect--"

"I wouldn't go then if I were you!" Peter Pettigrew suddenly shouted, snapping his head erect.

Bellatrix squinted at him. "Surely, Pettigrew, you are not defending this man simply because he tolerated you in school, are you?"

Pettigrew frowned. "I'm only warning you. I supposed you didn't want to get bitten."

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. "Bitten?" she repeated blankly.

Pettigrew grinned, playing his advantage. "I happen to know that Remus Lupin is a werewolf. Something you never would have known, as a Slytherin. See? My Gryffindor experience has come in useful already!"

Normally Bellatrix would have detesting this blatant display of ego. However, she was so shocked by this brilliant revelation that she did not think to be resentful. "Are you serious? A werewolf?" she gasped. "Well . . . Lucius, I may try your method . . . to think . . . ha! Such a secret! So much to protect . . . oh, he shall comply easily!"


	3. May 1980

I don't own Harry Potter, nope, nope, nope . . . how many more times must I rub it in?

***

Two nights after the full moon, Remus was already settling back into the usual pattern. He had James report him in sick so he could miss the day after (he didn't want to show up to work bruised, bloody, and immensely tired), but he returned promptly two days later. Lucius Malfoy's proposals still lay in a file on his desk, and he still had no further desire to pass them. He was starting to peruse through a bill banning overly personal questions in employment interviews- the types that always ended up discriminating against werewolves and vampires- and it was taking up much more of his interest.

He had just settled back in his most comfortable chair, prepared to read the evening Daily Prophet, when there was a knock at his door. Expected another visit from Sirus or perhaps James, he didn't bother to pick up his wand from the stand beside the chair.

He would have done well to remember it. As soon as he opened the door, he was pushed backwards by two black-cloaked figures. One intruder kicked the door shut while the other backed Remus at wandpoint to the wall. Remus didn't need to ask what was going on. 

"Remus Lupin, you were given a proposal by a certain pureblooded society a few weeks ago, were you not? You have not passed it. The Dark Lord knows. He is waiting. Waiting makes him displeased," said the Death Eater furthest from him. The visit was clearly a backup to the proposal-- terrorism and intimidation.

Remus peered through the slits in the masks of the unwelcome visitors. He could see through the closest mask a pair of familiar eyes with dark vamp-like lids.

"Bellatrix Black?" Remus choked out.

"Actually, it's Lestrange now." With a swift motion, she pulled off her hood and mask, revealing her sharp, attractive face and dark curls. Her lips were pressed together tightly and her eyes carried a glow Remus had not noticed when she wore her hood. 

"Bellatrix . . . " the other intruder admonished, keeping his hood on fast. 

Remus recognized the voice; Lucius Malfoy was other Death Eater. Half out of fear, half out of pleasure, Remus forced a laugh.

"What is so funny?" the still-hooded Lucius demanded to know.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, but it's quite clear to me who both of you are . . . and if you both do not leave immediate I'm afraid I will have to turn you in to Mr. Crouch."

Lucius pulled off his hood, revealing tousled blond hair and a rather red face, but Bellatrix only laughed. "Dear Remus, you clearly do not know how to play this game, do you?"

"What game? You and your 'Dark Lord' are actually quite stupid to think I would ever pass those ridiculous proposals. In fact, with that document on my desk, I could send about half of you to Azkaban. Mr. Crouch is very keen to catch the lot of you, and that paper gives him both proof on old names and new names to look into. I wouldn't test me."

Bellatrix smirked. "So you think you have power over us? Clever, dear boy, but not clever enough. You could send half of us to Azkaban you say . . . I suggest you try it. Successful as you may be with that half, you forget that there are Death Eaters among you you never would have suspected. They will come find you, Lupin. They will rally about your door, follow you to your work, your home . . . You have no one to protect you."

"If you try one of those curses on me . . . if you got the other Death Eaters to come after me . . . the Ministry squad will pick up on it in a second. Amelia Bones only lives two doors down, and the Minister himself lives within a mile. Some of my best friends are Aurors."

"Ahh . . . James Potter, of course." Bellatrix's mouth twisted into an ugly smile. "Such a clever, handsome, young man. And his wife- with child, I believe? It would be a pity for tragedy to strike a family that young. Surely you couldn't be so cruel as to ask that of him? You have no one to protect you besides Potter, Lupin. Who else do you expect to come to come to your aid? Pettigrew?" she laughed.

Remus's stomach sank. Peter was useless with a wand. "You're forgetting Sirius," he said, slightly renewed by the idea.

"Sirius? My own dear cousin?" Bellatrix breathed in sharply and laughed. "Surely you can't expect my own blood to defy me to save you!"

"He hasn't been in your family for five years. He hates the lot of them, including you."

Bellatrix sniggered lightly. "Oh, you would be surprised at the ties that bind family. Particularly the Black family. Sirius and I have had our days of closeness." Bellatrix couldn't help smiling at her own cleverness; she had thought this out ahead of time. Her plot was brilliant. "Why, in fact, it was he who told me your little secret. A secret, I might add, that will be made known the entire Ministry if you do not comply with my wishes. Because, Lupin, in case you do not know . . . the general population does not want their laws made by a werewolf."

Remus gasped. Bellatrix laughed loudly.

"Oh, I'm sorry . . . have you lost now all trust you ever held in your friends?" she spoke in a soft mock-baby voice. "I'm terribly sorry, but it's high time you were disillusioned: The world is a dark, cruel place. You can trust no one, Lupin."

She turned away, pulling her hood up as she went. "But you can trust, Lupin, that we will know if you have not passed those laws. And you will watch as your life falls to ashes around you."

Remus remained against the wall as if he would faint were it not supporting him. He was breathing very heavily. Had Sirius really told her his secret? Had he really betrayed him?

How else could Bellatrix have known? She would have had to have been told by one of his friends. Who else but her cousin, who could easily have slipped it. She sounded so pleased by it that Remus wondered if he had done it willingly. "There are Death Eaters among you you never would have suspected," she had said.

By the following week, all of the proposals in question had been passed.


	4. June 1980

I don't own Harry Potter.

***

"From what I found out after [Regulus] died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death." -Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

***

Sirius was appalled when he received the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. He hopped on his motorbike and sped to the Ministry building in order to catch Remus right away.

Remus was just unlocking the door to his office as Sirius arrived. Remus saw him, but then quickly turned away.

This did not stop Sirius. "Moony, have you lost your mind? Why'd you pass that rubbish?" Sirius accosted him.

"How many times have I asked you to stop calling me 'Moony?'" Remus said softly, his eyes averted as he opened the door to the office and stepped inside. "They're so childish, those nicknames. We've been out of school for two years now. It's time you grew up."

Sirius was a bit taken aback. He stood in the doorway a moment in shocked before following Remus in. "Fine. REMUS. Why on earth did you pass those mad Death Eater laws? I mean, look at this!" he pulled a crumpled copy of the article from within his coat. "'All students entering Hogwarts must be traceably pure on both sides of the family back at least five generations.' Five! Do you even know if YOU'RE pure five generations back?" Then he added sourly, "Though I notice you didn't add any amendments banning werewolves, did you?"

Remus was silent; he went over to his tea cauldron and started to brew it.

Sirius continued to rant. "Dumbledore recommended you to this position because he trusted you wouldn't let any of this happen. You were the one thing standing between the Death Eaters and the Ministry. Naturally, Rookwood was going to pass the laws. I half suspect he's a Death Eater himself! You were the one thing keeping the Ministry incorrupt. You've betrayed everybody! Dumbledore, Lily and James- you do realize their kid's not going to be allowed at Hogwarts now, don't you?- and even yourself! Since when have you believed in any of these laws?"

Remus wished he would shut up; he had already run through this reprimand to himself thousands of times. Yet it worse coming from the man who had done a lot of betraying himself, the hypocrite.

"Things change," he said shortly, still refusing to look at Sirius. "People grow up. People start having jobs and families and things they want to protect."

"People turn into traitors," snapped Sirius.

Remus jerked his eyes into Sirius's for the first time that morning. "Yes, they certainly do, don't they? You can't trust anyone, can you?"

Sirius blinked in shock. Remus turned coldly to the window. "W-well," stammered Sirius, "then I suppose my mum was right all along- and you know how much I hate to admit she's ever been right. That old adage . . . "

"What adage?"

Sirius pulled his coat around him with a snap. "Never trust a werewolf," he said harshly. Then he turned and walked straight out the door.

Remus collapsed into the chair behind the desk. He was left with an unrelenting emptiness and loss of trust. He felt like a villain and a victim at the same time. It had hurt so much to fight with Sirius, but then again, Sirius had really hurt him. It was all his own fault.

***

There was much electricity at the next Death Eater meeting. Regulus and Bartemius had both finally passed their Apparition tests, so they had managed to show up instantly at the Dark Lord's side without being followed by the mad Muggle. Regulus found it particularly ironic that the law allowing Underage Magic had been passed only a month before his graduation and official licensing.

"Avery has just informed me of a very pivotal event," the Dark Lord told his circle of followers in the graveyard. "He stepped into the Hog's Head a few nights ago while following my great adversary, Dumbledore. Avery managed to hear the prophecy . . . it was the whole, was it not?"

Avery nodded fervently, though rather nervously. "I heard the whole thing, I swear, my lord . . . "

The Dark Lord silent peered down at him for a moment, then returned to addressing the entire congregation. "There is to be a child born, at the end of next month, whose parents have thrice defied me. He shall grow to be my equal. I must stop this prophecy from being fulfilled. I will kill the child at its most vulnerable."

"What child is it, my lord?" asked Nott.

"Thrice defied . . . only two have every defied me and survived three times. Oddly, both are couples and both are with children, due at the end of the seventh month. The Potters and the Longbottoms. Both Aurors, both entirely too meddlesome and powerful for my liking. It would be desirable, naturally, to do away with both. Yet I have a suspicion of to whom the prophecy points. Pettigrew-- Wormtail, he goes by-- has informed me that the Potters have already been alerted of this prophecy by that fool Dumbledore, and are taking action as we speak. What did you say was their plan, Wormtail?"

Peter looked immensely proud to have the limelight for a moment. "The Fidelius Charm," he said squeakily. "And they have already refused to let Dumbledore be their Secret-Keeper. I think they'll choose Sirius."

"But you are close to the Potters, are you not?" The Dark Lord pointed out. Then he laughed to himself. "Foolish Potters . . . they have made everything much easier for me, refusing Dumbledore. Wormtail, I have a plan. You shall be made Secret-Keeper. Who do you have to contend with?

"James would only trust Sirius, Remus, and me," Peter said.

Bellatrix sniggered from her place in the circle. "If Lupin were by chance made Secret-Keeper, I can have him give you the whereabouts oh so easily. Getting him to pass those laws was like taking candy from a baby. This shall be no different."

"That still leaves Sirius, and he will most likely be the Potters' first choice," pointed out Lucius.

"Bella, I need you to take care of the Longbottoms. We shall deal with their child when we have finished with the Potters. However, feel free to incapacitate the parents. I would rather not have to deal with them a fourth time."

"Certainly, my lord," Bellatrix grinned, gripping her wand excitedly.

"Regulus Black!" the Dark Lord snapped, turning to the boy. Regulus practically jumped; he had never been called personally by the Dark Lord. He was always delegated tasks by Lucius or Bellatrix, and usually they involved he and Barty together.

"Y-yes, my lord?" Regulus stammered.

"Have you retained any ties with your brother?"

"N-no, my lord," Regulus replied, wishing he had so he could be more pleasing to the Dark Lord.

"Then you will go to him, beg to see him again, pretend your family wishes to welcome him back with open arms. Bella, you may play a part in this as well." Bellatrix groaned, but the Dark Lord did not respond. "Then, Regulus, when you are close enough to him- even just close enough to ask him- you will kill him."

Regulus's eyes widened and he stifled his gasp. The Dark Lord remained resolute. "This is your test . . . you have been but an honorary member of this clan until now. You must prove your worth to us."

Regulus nodded and then backed into his place in the circle. Bartemius was watching him jealously. "Of all the people you could kill, he's probably easiest. Just put on a sweet loving brother act. You're not- you're not scared are you?"

"If it's so easy, how come you haven't murdered your dad in his sleep?" Regulus snapped.

"He's not even your brother, idiot. He's been out of your family for years," Bartemius replied shortly. He shut up after that, though.

***

Regulus had to carry out his mission by the first of July. The Potters would choose their Secret-Keeper then, Peter had found out. He waited until the last minute, his procrastination eating him up with thoughts from his conscience. He hadn't ever hated Sirius nearly as much as he could have. Sure, he enjoyed being his mother's favorite, held up with praise before his older brother when he was made a Slytherin and joined the Quidditch team when all Sirius ever did was get in trouble in the hated Gryffindor house. They were cheap thrills, though, brought on by the natural jealousy of the youngest child to his older brother. Regulus had been jealous of Sirius at times; he always had more friends and many more girls interested in him. Still, just as jealousy was a natural part of brotherhood, so was fondness. Before Sirius went to Hogwarts and started his downhill slope towards shunning, Sirius and Regulus were companions in the sense of brothers. They fought, but still played together nicely at times. Even just living in the same house as someone for fourteen years had its effects.

Regulus left the house that fateful chosen night. He hadn't bothered to write Sirius in advance; his brother didn't want to see him and he knew it. His only hope was to catch him while he was at home.

Regulus knocked on the door to Sirius's flat. He could hear loud music thumping within; Sirius still acted like a teenager. A moment later, his brother appeared at the door. He took one look at Regulus, wrinkled up his nose, and sneered, "What do you want?"

Regulus stood there, blinked, and thought vaguely of reaching for his wand and hexing him on the spot. He was supposed to say something, persuade Sirius he was here to play nice. "I just . . . I just came by to see you . . . " It was feeble.

Sirius smirked. "Right. Tell Mum Uncle Alphard gave me more gold than her and she can just get over it, alright?"

"That's not why I'm here . . . I'm here to . . . I'm . . . " Time was slipping away from him. Sirius was getting even more annoyed. He had no idea how hard this was for Regulus. Regulus couldn't just point his wand between his brother's eyes and kill him on the spot, watch him fall to the ground lifeless and go on living himself as if nothing had happened. The Death Eaters killed people all the time, but they were never family and rarely friends. Regulus wondered if even the most hardened Death Eater could kill a family member, however unattached they were. Family was blood, and blood meant everything to a pureblooded cult.

"You're here to stutter and waste my time, aren't you? You're a bigger idiot than I remember. Mum let you get stupid after I left, did she?"

His dark eyes were looking straight into Sirius's, like a reflection of Regulus's. "I can't . . . do this!" Regulus suddenly cried. He turned and fled, flying down the stairs of the apartment complex as if he had seen a ghost. Sirius laughed as he ran off. The kid was hilariously stupid.

"You're supposed to run away BEFORE I answer the door, idiot!" Sirius called after him. "And most folks in their right mind don't pull the doorbell trick on their disowned brothers!"

Now Regulus was on run from the Death Eaters. Unless he got back up there and killed Sirius, he would be over his deadline. It was nearly midnight, and at midnight it would be July. The Dark Lord had a schedule that couldn't be tampered with.

He collapsed against the wall of the building, behind a bush. However, he wasn't as alone as he thought.

"Did you do it?" a voice hissed in his ear.

Regulus jumped and gave a shout. Bellatrix clapped her hand over his mouth. "Idiot! Crouch lives in this complex; do you want to go to Azkaban?" Ironic, thought Regulus, that they didn't have Barty do this job. He apparently lived right by Sirius; Regulus had had to walk several blocks from Grimmauld Place to here.

"Did you do it?" Bellatrix asked again.

Regulus couldn't speak. Bellatrix sighed in annoyance. "Your time is up. If you didn't do it . . . " she seized his wand right out of his hand. She placed hers against his and cried, "Priori Incatatum!"

The ghost of a small spell Regulus had used to fix his bed hangings last night dribbled out of the end of his wand. Bellatrix rounded on him, her eyes aflame. She threw his wand into the bushes beside her.

"Traitor!" she spoke in as harsh a whisper as she could muster.

"No . . . no, I just didn't have time!" pleaded Regulus.

"Don't lie! This would have been easy! There was no one around! You're powerful enough now to take him on! What on earth stopped you? Did you fear?"

"H-he's my brother! I couldn't just-"

"He is not your brother! He hasn't been your brother in ages. He never was really your brother; he was a stinking blood traitor Gryffindor who would have no qualms about killing YOU."

"He's blood, Bellatrix, no matter how he turned out," argued Regulus weakly. "Blood ties are stronger than any of that!"

"Where does your loyalty lie?" Bellatrix snapped suddenly. "To him, to a foul blood traitor who cares nothing for you? Or to the Death Eaters?"

"The Death Eaters are about preserving pure blood . . . blood matters to them," Regulus hoped his argument was true.

Bellatrix shook her head grimly. "I'm afraid you may be wrong, Regulus. The Death Eaters are a family of their own. You may consider a traitor to your family still kin, but within our clan we do not feel similarly. It's time you were disowned." She lifted her wand slowly.

"NO!" Regulus dropped to his knees. "Bella, no! Please don't kill me! Don't kill me! I'm your cousin! I'm your own blood!"

"I just told you, Regulus. The Death Eaters are my kin now." Her wand was now stiff in her hand, pointed to Regulus at the ready.

So there were Death Eaters hardened enough to kill their kin. Regulus shuddered. There was no use pleading any longer.

"I'm sorry, my dear baby cousin. I honestly thought you were better than this." Bellatrix's cold fathomless eyes looked straight into Regulus's as she whispered:

"Avada Kedavra."

The young body of Regulus Black slumped forward onto to the ground. He had died at the wand of his own kin, attempting to save the life of another family member. He had died torn in half by the one thing he had ever bothered to stand for.

Upstairs, Sirius went on with his business. He knew nothing of what had gone on below his windows. He would never know that it had been he whom Regulus had died to save.

  
  



	5. July 1980

I do not own Harry Potter. It'd be rather funny and really cool if I actually did. Though in that case, I'd probably be keeping it hidden, wouldn't I?

***

Regulus Black was at the front of the main hall in Grimmauld Place, surrounded by friends and family, but it was hardly a wedding ceremony. Just two months short of eighteen, his young self was pale, waxy, and powdered, his eyes shut and his arms crossed over his chest, lying in an open coffin surrounded by black crepe and silver trim. His mother, who was dry-eyed but solemn, stood off to the right side of him. His father stood beside her with an equally dismal expression.

"My poor baby," Mrs. Black sighed, gazing down at her deceased son. "Our last hope . . . our heir, the last decent Black . . . "

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy came up to the front of the room, having just arrived, the latter patting her pregnant belly. "Our condolences," said Lucius stiffly, holding out his hand to shake Mr. Black's. Narcissa only peered silently into the coffin, her face inscrutable.

They worked their way to the back of the room to chat with the others at the visitation. Peter Pettigrew, daubing his face with a handkerchief and looking decidedly nervous in the sea of cold former-Slytherin faces, approached Regulus's casket.

To most everyone in the room's surprise, Mrs. Black spoke to him quite rationally. "Thank you again, boy, for bringing us his body."

Peter nodded and attempted a smile, which was quickly snuffed since no one smiled back.

The Lestranges had arrived and Bellatrix came to the fore, throwing a disdainful look down at Peter. She set her eyes on her aunt and did not look at Regulus at all. She did not offer any sympathy, but simply asked about Peter in a harsh whisper, "What is HE doing here?"

"He found Regulus dead," explained Mrs. Black. "He discovered the body and returned it to us. He was murdered, apparently, and left to rot under the bushes." Her voice did not break at all. "It was that cult he joined . . . they killed him in the end . . . "

Bellatrix's eyes started to narrow at the disdainful way her aunt spoke of the Death Eaters, but Mrs. Black did not seem to notice. Her eyes fell back upon her youngest son- her favorite- and she continued, in a sorrowful voice, "My baby was never meant to be part of such a group. He was meant for greater, but gentler, things . . . such a fragile little boy . . . YOU were the one who got him all mixed up in that nonsense," she snapped, turning angry eyes on Bellatrix.

Bellatrix's eyes flashed. "Nonsense? You were quite proud of him when he joined up. You were keen on all of the Death Eaters' purposes."

"Purposes, yes! Yet I never knew the sort of things he would be forced to do! Don't think I haven't read in the papers how the Death Eaters have gone on mad killing sprees, even destroying proper pureblood citizens! They even killed one of their own," she gestured madly to Regulus. "My son never should have been mixed up in that! Such violent, terrible means . . . completely inappropriate!"

Bellatrix's eyes were now glowing, her dark lids covering more than half of her eyes, narrowed in anger. Her lips were tight. "At least we actually DO something about what we find fault with," she said in a deadly whisper, "rather than simply sitting comfortably at home complaining about it." Her aunt ignored her, so she turned to leave.

Peter Pettigrew watched her go, then turned and checked his watch. He gasped, and then scampered out after her.

***

James Potter paced back and forth across Dumbledore's office. His wife, Lily, belly bulging twice as much as Narcissa Malfoy's, was seated fanning herself in a chair by Dumbledore's desk, watching James with intent green eyes. Dumbledore was at his desk, writing.

"Can't we do something this heat? And stop pacing, James; watching you is making it worse," Lily said breathlessly.

Without missing a beat, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the fireplace, where blue flames sprung up. They emitted a cool breeze that washed over the three of them.

Lily closed her eyes and sighed in relief. Then, suddenly, she made a face and placed her hand tenderly on her belly. "I don't think this one's a Seeker," she laughed. "That felt more like a Beater to me. Or a Muggle football player."

Dumbledore looked up from his work. "You're still sure you wouldn't rather I was the Secret-Keeper?"

"We don't want to put you under any more pressure, Albus," he smiled to himself; it still gave him a kick to call his old Headmaster by his first name. "Besides, I trust all of my friends."

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "I deeply suggest caution, James. I have had numerous sources tell me that they strongly believe one of your friends is passing information to the other side."

James shrugged. "That's why I'm checking with all of them first. I've pretty much chosen already, but-"

"Sirius," grinned Lily. "Of course you're choosing Sirius."

"He's my best friend; what's wrong with that?" James looked at her.

She shook her head. "Sometimes, I think the two of you are still in third year. Have you ever considered that Sirius might be afraid to take on something this important? I mean, if it comes out he's the Secret-Keeper, he could be tortured until he reveals it."

"Which he won't ever do," finished James. "Come off it, Lily. Sirius is unflinchingly loyal. He'd probably consider it an honor to die for not betraying a friend."

"I'm not having a go at him; I just wish you'd consider it his choice. Remus would be just as willing to die for you- Peter, too. He hero-worships you. All of your friends care deeply about you. I would trust any of them."

"You're quick to trust people, though, Lily Evans Potter," James smirked playfully. "You trusted Snape to finish that Arithmancy project he had to do with you in seventh year, and he-"

"Oh, be quiet!" Lily blushed. "And he only didn't finish because YOU had him sent the hospital wing with tentacles sprouting out of his head! He had every intent of finishing!"

"He had every intent on making a move-" A knock on the door cut James off, which caused Lily to stop blushing in relief. "Come in!" James shouted to the office door.

"And you call ME trusting," Lily sighed good-naturedly. "It's dead foolish to invite just anyone into your house, especially now, especially before we perform the charm!"

Luckily, it was only Remus Lupin. He came in and smiled at the couple. "Has Sirius or Peter arrived yet?"

'Nope; you're the first," said James. "Have a seat. How's everything? Work treating you well? Found a nice she-werewolf yet?"

Remus smiled. "Nope . . . unfortunately, my little apartment doesn't give me the chance to get out on full moon much. To the werewolf singles' bar and all . . . " he and James chuckled. "And work . . . well, Rookwood's been moved to the Department of Mysteries, so I'm under different management now. Don't know why they didn't move ME up," he feigned bitterness, but continued to smile, "but Fabian Prewett's much more decent. A Muggle-born-- his brother Gideon was in our year, remember?-- he shares my views a little more; I don't have to argue with him."

"That's good," said Lily. "Rookwood was starting to worry me . . . he passed all those laws about not letting Muggle-borns into Hogwarts."

Remus felt his stomach drop and his smile fade from his face. "Indeed . . . " he said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and then explained, "But Prewett's repealed all of those." This was some relief, but Remus had a nasty suspicion that, though his nightly visits of terror had stopped, Fabian was now started to feel his fire.

There was another knock on the door, and Sirius came in unasked. He smiled around and Lily and James but took a quick look at Remus and stopped smiling. Remus simply watched him melancholily, taking a seat as James had suggested. "Hey, Sirius," James started pacing again. "So that just leaves Peter . . . don't tell me he's gone off somewhere AGAIN. He must have finally found a social life or something . . . I've haven't seen him in weeks."

Dumbledore looked up suspiciously at this, but was silent.

Right on cue, Peter dashed in, flushing, sweat running down his face and soaking the underarms to the jumper he was wearing. "Sorry I'm late, James!" he squeaked quickly.

"Why are you wearing a sweater in the middle of July?" Sirius eyed his attire. "It's hot enough to boil pumpkin juice in here."

"I'm not hot," Peter cleared lied as a fat drop of sweat rolled down his nose.

Remus raised an eyebrow and Sirius just tipped back casually in his chair. "Alrightly then. Um . . . business, James?"

"Right," James clapped his hands together. "I've informed all of you already that I have to choose a Secret-Keeper. Now, I want you to know that I trust you all, and if I don't choose you it's not because you're an any worse friend, and-"

"James, you're reverting back to Quidditch captain mode. This isn't tryouts for the House team," Sirius said with a snort.

James ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. "I know. I know. I just . . . feel bad about having to PICK one of you."

"How about," Lily stretched in her seat, "you talk one-on-one in the hall with each of them, to see if anyone has any worries or problems or wishes to not do it. Then, we can privately pick one." She winked at Remus, Sirius, and Peter, "You know . . . just in case one of you were Voldemort's spy." Peter shuddered at the sound of the name, but no one seemed to notice.

"Right then. Sirius, you first. Let's go."

Sirius followed James into the entry corridor between Dumbledore's staircase and office door. "You're first choice," said James. "That's . . . not a problem, is it?"

"Nope," Sirius shrugged casually, but he couldn't hide his pleasure. He really was James's best friend.

"You don't know, do you, who Dumbledore thinks is passing information about us, do you?" James asked, his voice suddenly solemn.

Sirius blinked. "Someone . . . someone's been spying on you?"

James nodded grimly. "Apparently. Dumbledore thinks-"

Sirius suddenly drew in a sharp breath of air. "He didn't! He couldn't have! He must have-"

James was nonplussed. "What are you talking about?"

Sirius shook his head, calming himself down. "It has to be Remus," he said after a moment.

"What?"

"Remus- yes, I know I sound crazy," Sirius added, noting the look on James's face. "But . . . didn't you know? It was him who passed all those mad laws a few months ago, the ones that were just repealed, about Hogwarts and the like?"

James's eyebrows were furrowed. "He wouldn't do something like that . . ."

"James, I wouldn't lie to you. I couldn't believe it, either. I saw the forms, though . . . I saw Lucius Malfoy give them to him. The exact proposals that became the laws."

"Remus wouldn't ever . . . he must have been terrorized into doing it . . . the Death Eaters do that . . . why on earth didn't he TELL me? I could have gone on watch for him!"

"Terrorized or not, HE passed them," Sirius said bitterly. "I . . . I don't want to sound spiteful, James, but . . . I wouldn't trust him. You don't have to make me the Secret-Keeper- though I assure you, it would be the greatest honor- but please, for your own sake, and Lily's, and James Potter, Junior . . . don't give it to Remus, alright?"

James only stared at him with stricken eyes, but Sirius knew he was taking him seriously. "And we don't know if he hasn't joined their side. Sometimes oppressed groups join groups that oppress others to make themselves feel more adequate and accepted . . . it's not uncommon."

James was slightly cold as he replied, "I guess I can't deny that Remus has been coerced somehow into carrying out some of Voldemort's work, but I simply CANNOT believe he would be a Death Eater. That's out of order, Sirius. But-" he looked Sirius straight in the eye, "-it is true I won't be able to let him be Secret-Keeper. Whatever is being done to him is working to get information out of him, and I can't risk it. Sirius . . . when I'm done talking to Remus and Peter, I want to talk to you again."

Sirius swept from the hall and moments later Remus appeared. He felt very nervous; Sirius had given him a decidedly dirty look as he came back in the office. He had to have told James that Remus was untrustworthy.

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but James spoke first. "Remus," he took hold of his shoulders, "I just need to let you know . . . you won't be needed to worry about being my Secret-Keeper. I've decided . . . you . . . don't need any more stress of that kind."

Remus wasn't fooled. "Sirius told you that I passed those laws, didn't he?"

James looked down. "Yes. But I don't blame you!" he spoke quickly. "It's just . . . if you're being followed, and if you've already been taken advantage of, I don't want to put you in more danger."

Remus nodded solemnly.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" James asked, his eyes finding Remus's. "You do know I can track them down. If you give me their identities, I can have them locked in Azkaban. The law can take care of it."

"It won't, though, James. They'll just get others after me. It will just keep going and locking up some of them will only make them angry. Besides, the attacks have stopped on me."

James still watched him with a pained expression. Remus didn't like this pity. It was as if he were weak and incapable. James was a brave Auror with nothing to hide; he couldn't possibly understand what Remus was feeling.

Remus finally sighed in defeat. "I suppose you're right, though; it's best that I wasn't Secret-Keeper. I have too much to hide and too much to be used against me. Good luck with the Fidelius Charm, though . . . and don't forget to keep in touch, just because you're in hiding." He forced a weary smile.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Moony," James grinned, making amends. He held out his arms and the two friends embraced. Remus walked down the stairs and out of the abandoned-for-the-summer Hogwarts, having no further business in the office. Sirius would be pleased to be James's Secret-Keeper, and he would make a good one. After all, James and Sirius had always been best friends, closer to each other than they had been to Remus. They willingly made a foursome with Peter, and sometimes a threesome when Peter became annoying, but when it came down to picking one partner, one other person, they always chose each other. Sometimes it bothered Remus; sometimes he wished he had an absolute best friend . . . but, as he had spent his life since age six as a despised werewolf, he had always been thankful to have three friends at all. They were great friends, too; playful and clever and loyal . . . 

Or so he had thought. 

Still, though, Remus knew . . . even if Sirius had betrayed Remus, he would never betray his BEST friend.

***

To be continued . . . Peter and Sirius switch, the original Order of the Phoenix begins to show up, etc, etc . . . 


	6. August 1980

I do not own Harry Potter

***

August dawned drizzly and grey. Sirius strolled along the streets of London, thinking to himself. He had gotten the owl last night; James and Lily had had their baby. Tonight, they would perform the Fidelius Charm. They couldn't risk any gaps; Lord Voldemort could come after the baby any time. 

He was beginning to have second thoughts. Sure, his being Secret-Keeper was flattering, but was it really the smartest idea for James and Lily? Everyone knew he and James were like brothers. Naturally any Death Eater would come after Sirius first. He would never, ever tell; he would sooner die-- and a Death Eater would certainly be willing to kill him. Was it necessary to put himself in that much danger? Perhaps if someone else were Secret-Keeper . . . then everyone could remain alive. It would be a beautiful, honorable death, dying keeping his friends' secret . . . but it was much smarter and more desirable to stay alive, naturally.

He was startled to run into his cousin Andromeda, holding the hand of a little girl whose features were a perfect match to her mother's. "Andi?" Sirius blinked at them.

Andromeda smiled. "Sirius! I haven't seen you in a while! How are you?"

Sirius's pensive mood was lifted. "I'm alright . . . wow, she's gotten big. And she looks exactly like you." He nodded to the little girl.

Andromeda smirked. "Not exactly." She turned to her daughter. "Nymphadora, can you show Uncle Sirius how you can go like Daddy?"

Nymphadora turned her eyes that matched Andromeda's towards Sirius for a moment, and then squinted them shut. A moment later, she opened them, and they were changed-- a dark grey rather than brown-- and the rest of her face had transformed around it, into a perfect replica of Ted Tonks.

Sirius laughed. "Now I remember! Metamorphagus!"

Andromeda grinned again and turned back to Nymphadora. "Go like Uncle Sirius," she prompted. Immediately, the girl shut her eyes and transformed into a replica of Sirius, standing three feet tall but in every likeness of him. "Okay, you can go back to normal now," said Andromeda, once Sirius had had his laugh. The Sirius likeness faded back into mini Andromeda, and the larger Andromeda whispered above her head, "I make her stay like me, so I can find her. If I didn't have rules, she'd go off and make herself have green hair and a nose as long as a pencil. It's a nightmare." If Andromeda had inherited one thing from her conservative Black roots, it was a distaste for things too out of the ordinary.

Even as she spoke, Nymphadora had crossed her eyes and was watching as her nose transformed into a pig's snout. "Hey," Sirius tried to distract her, "can you do your Aunt Narcissa?"

"She hasn't met her Aunt Narcissa," said Andromeda, becoming suddenly cold. "I doubt she ever will, her or her coming cousin. Narcissa's pregnant, did you hear?"

"By Lucius Malfoy? That child's going to be a monster. So you never see 'Cissa but you're in the family enough to know who's with child?"

"No," whispered Andromeda. "They just announced it in the papers. You know how the elitist families are. They can't even wait until the baby is born. YOU were advertised practically the day after you were conceived. They've probably got him or her a little unborn Slytherin already matched for marriage, too." Andromeda had always been bitter about being bethrothed at a young age. She managed to wheedle out of it, however, by eloping with Ted Tonks and having Nymphadora in her seventh year at Hogwarts, only months before her wedding date was arranged. Sirius hadn't ever bothered to find out who his parents might have matched up for him-- he didn't stick around long enough.

"Don't be bitter about being kicked out," Sirius consoled her. "We rogues are better off, anyway. So, 'Cissa's preggers, too? Oh dear . . . the Potters' son was just born last night; he'll be in the same year as Malfoy's boy."

"And the Longbottoms," Andromeda pointed out. "They had a boy, too, just two days ago. Oh, and don't forget that Molly Weasley's--"

"AGAIN?" Sirius's eyes bulged. "What's that, six now?"

"Hey!" Nymphadora spoke for the first time since she and her mother had come across Sirius. However, when Sirius looked down at her, her face was drawn into a replica of Remus Lupin. "There's a man that looks like this over there that just waved to you," she said.

Sirius looked up. Sure enough, Remus Lupin was standing across the street, looking at him meaningfully. Sirius beckoned him over, though not particularly warmly.

"I heard Harry James Potter was born last night," Remus said, trying to set aside the argument for good news.

"Yes; I'm heading over there now," said Sirius. "I've been named godfather."

"Congratulations," Remus nodded, trying to smile nicely. "You're not . . . you're not performing the charm yet, are you? I wanted to get over there some time today, to see the baby, but I have to work . . . "

"I don't know if you'll get out in time," said Sirius, not caring that he was being nasty. "James wants to take care of it as soon as possible."

"Well, then . . . " Remus looked down. "Good luck. And be sure you keep the secret safe on pain of death." He spoke casually, hoping Sirius would take it sarcastically, but, as he walked away towards the Ministry, Sirius glared after him.

"Be sure I keep the secret safe . . . he's really one to talk," he muttered.

Andromeda was watching him suspiciously. "Er . . . Sirius? I've grown up with some really spiteful, nasty little wenches for sisters, and so I know very well when someone is pretending to like someone they hate. What on earth is going on between you two?"

Sirius shook his head. "Nothing . . . look, I've got to get going, alright?"

***  
Remus stepped into his office, trying to focus back on Harry's birth rather than Sirius's cold reaction to him. However, instead of finding the usual calm, he was greeted almost immediately by the Minister of Magic herself, Millicent Bagnold.

The large woman descended on him rather angrily, confusing him. "Remus Lupin," she spoke firmly. "Recently, there has been signs of internal action in support of a certain dark wizard within our very Ministry. I have been going over the files on the workers in all departments, and I came across your resume. Now, your credentials are just fine, but I have been informed by a very reliable source that you neglected to disclose one very crucial piece of information about yourself."

She snapped her fingers and a long piece of paper appeared: Remus's resume. "It says here," she motioned to a segment near the middle-bottom of the resume, "that you are to disclose any conditions that might inhibit your position at the Ministry. Now, are you or are you not a werewolf, Lupin?"

At the world "werewolf," Remus went extremely pale. He lacked the time to think about who it could be this time who was revealing his secrets; Millicent Bagnold was tapping her foot.

"I don't deny it," he said softly. "But . . . but it doesn't inhibit my work. No one has even noticed that I have any unusual absences. My productivity is still the same as all the other workers."

Millicent Bagnold shook her head. "I'm sorry, Lupin, but considering the many dangers there can be . . . I have to fire anyone who lies on their resume. That includes lacking information. What if you belonged to the . . . the . . . a certain pureblood cult, and you had not mentioned it? I would be forced to fire you then, too. You see, I have set a precedent, and I must follow through. You are relieved, Lupin."

Remus felt as if all of the wind had been knocked out of him. Relieved . . . and all because he had been a werewolf. He had been forced to go against his own morals and betray his own friends to keep a job he was going to be fired from anyway, and for the same reason!

Millicent Bagnold left, probably to go off and fire yet another hapless Ministry member. Remus turned and began to gather his things. He did not notice when Fabian Prewett walked in.

"Lupin?" Fabian spoke softly. "You were let go, too?"

"Too?" Remus turned around.

Fabian nodded grimly. "I belonged to a 'certain secret society.' Too bad she didn't realize it's the very secret society that's keeping THE secret society in check."

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"You know . . . I think we could use you as a member. You're an old Gryffindor, against those crazed Death Eaters-- yes, I know you were blackmailed into doing that," he added, noting the look on Remus's face, "they came and terrorized me, too, too bad they had nothing on me-- but what I'm talking about is the Order of the Phoenix."

"The what?"

"Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore reckons he's put together just about the best anti-Dark army in Britain, but we could always use new members. We've got Aurors-- Moody and the Longbottoms and the Potters--"

"The Potters? They never said anything about that to me."

"Well, they're relatively new . . . Moody's so paranoid he wouldn't let them in until he'd been sure they'd faced off with You-Know-Who three times . . . but there's also Ministry members and the lot. Why don't you come along with me tonight? You've got nothing to lose anymore, and this is just the sort of dangerous job for people like you. Plus Gideon's picked up a new recruit, and I have to show him up."

***

Remus went along with Fabian Prewett to the meeting, which was held in Dumbledore's office, the safest place they could think of. It was awfully crowded, stuffing over twenty people in the odd little round room. Remus went around meeting the members, who were very pleased he was joining their ranks. Fawkes kept squawking, and, as Fabian's brother walked in, burst into flame and nearly caught Marlene McKinnon's hair on fire.

Remus's stomach plummeted when he saw who was with Gideon. Fabian, however, found it hilarious that Gideon's recruit was Sirius.

"You would have thought James would have brought in these two!" he laughed. "But no, he didn't even bring in Pettigrew-- wasn't that Caradoc? Must be too worried about his friends' safety, how cute . . . Oy! Potter!" Fabian waved to James and Lily, who had just entered, Lily rather wearily with a bundle of blankets in her arms.

Remus's heart soared again. He turned, in unison with Sirius, and ran to see the Potters' firstborn. The boy was fast asleep, his face pink and framed by a charismatic tuft of black hair that was obviously the result of James's genes.

"So this is the boy that's going to grow up and stop him?" Aberforth, a replica of Dumbledore except with greyer hair, peered over Lily's shoulder.

"Either that or Neville," said Lily. Her eyes lifted and found those of Alice Longbottom, who had also come over to see the new baby. She too, carried a small child, only this one was blond and chubbier. Lily became serious, "Alice, you have thought about what you are going to do to protect yourself, too, haven't you?"

"We're working on it," nodded Alice. "We haven't quite got the organization you two have."

"What is this, a nursery?" grumbled Moody, breaking the mood. "Come on, folks, let's get to work. We've got new recruits to interrogate." 

"It's Lily and James's last night," groaned Emmaline Vance. "And we want to see the baby. They're going into hiding and we're not going to see them for-- years, maybe."

"The faster we get to work stopping those Death Eaters, the faster Lily and James come out of hiding and you get to see the baby again," Moody pointed out. He then turned to Sirius beside him and looked him up and down. "You sure it's wise to bring a Black into this, Gideon?"

James leapt to Sirius's defense. "This Black here's such an awful Black he got kicked out before he was even of age! You probably can't find a less dark wizard."

Moody snorted. "Still, what if he's attending family reunions? His brother was found dead with a Death Eater mask on his person, and I've got a hunch that Bellatrix character's in Voldy's inner circle."

Sirius blinked. "Regulus is dead?" Then, as if waking himself up, shook his head, "I mean, not that I CARE, or anything . . ."

"You see, he doesn't even know which of his relations are ALIVE," James pointed out.

"Fine! Fine! But if he blows the operation . . . " Moody scanned Sirius over with narrowed eyes. Sirius just smiled.

Within the hour, Remus, Sirius, and a Benjy Fenwick were questioned, deemed worthy, and initiated into the Order of the Phoenix. The membership, now 22 strong, posed for a picture, and then went their separate ways. The new recruits had no missions, but they had heard some assigned, and it sounded difficult. Still, Remus was itching to prove his true moral value. Sirius hoped that what Moody said about Bellatrix was true, and he would be the one to catch her.

However, he had bigger things to worry about tonight.

"Peter," he approached him just as he was leaving. "Will you . . . will you come with me, please?"

***

Sirius met James at the entrance to Godric's Hollow just before midnight. Lily sat down under a tree and began to nurse the baby. She listened, however, as Sirius presented his idea to James.

"We switch. Peter goes in my place. Don't you see? They'll be sure to come after me. Peter . . . well, no offense, Peter, but no one's going to suspect you."

Peter felt his heart leap. Even though Regulus had failed, even though the Dark Lord had doled out excessive punishment for his folly . . . the plan had worked!  
"Yes!" he squeaked in agreement.

James looked suspicious. "Well, if you insist . . ."

"If you trust me with your family's lives, James, you can trust me to know this is safer," Sirius promised. "Trust me, James. I'll protect Peter, too. I'll check up on him." He turned back to Peter. "I won't let them come after you, either. But don't you see how this is safest?"

"I think it's brilliant," declared Lily, so fervently she jostled the baby. Harry burst into tears and Lily had to attend to him.

James paused for a moment, and then smiled. "Alright. I trust you, Sirius, and I trust you, too, Peter. Let's do this."

The next morning, Lily and James were invisible to the world. Neither Sirius nor Remus had access to them. Peter was just where he wanted to be.

***

More coming, still . . . there's still a year until Peter's betrayal and the Potters' death . . . there's still things to be done!

Thanks to everybody that's reviewed!


	7. September 1980

I do not own anything related to Harry Potter.

Out of habit, Sirius found himself one day walking up the stairs to the Ministry of Magic, as if to visit Remus. He was awoken from his habitual trance when he ran sharply into Lucius Malfoy, who was exiting for lunch. The two regarded each other with disgusted glances and Sirius waited for him to descend. Then he too left. He had no reason to be at the Ministry building anymore, since Remus had left- and what was he doing looking for Remus, anyway?

He got back on his motorbike and took off in no direction in particular. That was how it always was now. He couldn't go visiting James and Lily just any old time he liked, and he really had no desire to see Remus anymore. So, to keep from wandering uselessly ALL the time, he took to checking up on Peter, who seemed irked at his visits. Sirius couldn't see why he was so annoyed; usually Peter was desperate for his friends' attentions. Yet now he seemed as if he much preferred solitude- or someone else's company. The thought made Sirius laugh; Peter was a hapless socialite. Perhaps, Sirius considered, he'd finally found some nice, not-to-picky Hufflepuff girl- or a female sewer rat.

Out of respect for Peter's possible amours, Sirius kept his visits down to once a week. That left him six days in which to do nothing but wander, occasionally buying food, clothes, or gas for his motorbike when he needed it. At least the bi-weekly Order of the Phoenix meetings were exciting- but Moody was still so suspicious of him that he hadn't been assigned one single task. It was terribly insulting, especially since Remus had been put on a special committee to investigate possible Ministry subversion. James and Lily were no longer required to show up. Peter worked on his committees, since he had been at it longer. Usually Sirius just ended up snacking on the punch and cookies Dorcas Meadowes brought along, chatting with Alice Longbottom about how baby Neville was carrying on and trying to imagine his godson doing the same things.

"It seems ages since I've gotten a good rest; Neville cries all night," Alice remarked. "At least he's somewhat consistent- from one to about four is his usual waking . . . " Sirius nodded and looked longingly into the crowds of the others, busy at their work.

Moody approached Sirius from behind and spoke, taking him off guard. "Have either of you seen McKinnon? I think she didn't bother to show!" He noted that Sirius jumped at his voice and grinned, "Keep your guard up, Black! Constance vigilance! You'll never make it in the Order if you may more attention to your cookies than what's behind you!"

"I'll Floo Marlene," offered Caradoc Dearborn, stepping over to the fireplace. Everyone gathered around as Caradoc tossed a handful of the powder in. He kneeled on the floor and stuck his head in, ready to contact Marlene.

He was silent for a long time and then pulled himself back out of the fire. He paused, then spoke, his voice shaky. "There's something very wrong there. Very, very wrong. I . . . I'm going to ask some of you to back me up, just in case."

Sirius felt Moody jog him forward. "Your big chance, Black. You strike me as more the action type than the meticulous committee type. Wands out. Go on."

Filled with a mingled sense of dread and adrenaline, Sirius pulled out his wand and stepped along with Frank Longbottom, Alastor Moody, and Caradoc Dearborn towards the fireplace. One at a time but at a brisk pace, the four of them Flooed completely to the McKinnon's house.

Caradoc had been right; something did feel very wrong. The house was dead silent, filled with darkness and a sort of familiarity Sirius associated with something very long ago that he had tried to forget. The air smelled pungently sweet. Wands at the ready, the little brigade stepped into the house and began to seek out the McKinnons- or whatever else might be lingering. Caradoc led, but the two Aurors flanked him closely at his sides.

"Remember," Moody whispered, "We've got orders from Crouch to kill. Don't be afraid to use them."

The squadron turned into a hallway and Sirius's stomach lurched. Two children lay sprawled on the floor, their arms outstretched towards an open bedroom door as if they had been running desperately towards it, as if trying to escape a pursuer- who had obviously won. One was a boy, probably only a year short of Hogwarts- he did not hold a wand; he had been killed unarmed- and the other, laid to rest nearly a yard behind him, was a tiny little girl, probably too small to even be able to run properly from what frighted her.

"They got her kids," whispered Frank, "the monsters . . ."

Moody pressed forward into the bedroom. "That's not all they got," he said grimly.

Sirius and the others stepped in. Mr. McKinnon, Marlene's husband, who was known for his neutral and pacifistic take on the situation, lay dead, face up on the floor. Marlene herself was crumpled against the bed, her husband at her feet, her body covered in hexed welts and boils that suggested that her death had not been as easy as her family's.

"She died an Order member's death," said Caradoc wisely. "I think that's how we'd all like to go."

'With your spouse and kids?" Frank furrowed his eyebrows. "Caradoc, don't you remember her telling us she wanted to ensure her family's safety when she joined up? She wanted to be a hero, but not at the risk of her family!"

"Who cannot say this doesn't inspire, horrible as it is? The children, gone, too . . . When this gets out . . . " Caradoc was near tears. He was obviously hoping to find some good in their deaths.

"Shut up about emotional inspiration and just say it straight out, Dearborn. We're going to get revenge for this." Moody's tone was sharp.

Frank fumbled with the bedsheet and Sirius helped him lift it and lay it over the bodies of the McKinnons. Caradoc absent-mindedly wiped his eyes and moved towards the wardrobe. He stepped on something, which snapped under his foot. After setting down the sheet, Sirius watched as he stooped to pick it up. It was a wand, now in two pieces with the dragon heartstring poking out. Sirius assumed it was one of the fallen victims', but then there came a sudden thump against the wardrobe. It wasn't a boggart.

Moody's wand flipped to the ready. "Open it, Dearborn."

He did. A dark-haired man, obviously weakened, leaning against the wardrobe door, fell forward, eyes wide. Sirius recognized him as a much shakier version of a Slytherin he had gone to Hogwarts with.

"Wilkes!" Moody cried.

Wilkes knew what was coming and flung up his hands. "I'm unarm-"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Mouth still open, eyes still wide, Wilkes fell face-first to the ground, bouncing back slightly against the soft carpet.

"At least Marlene was quick enough to catch one of them off their guard," said Moody casually, not even looking down at the recently-departed Wilkes.

Caradoc was stunned. "Why, Alastor? He was unarmed. His wand was broken, for Merlin's sake. We could have just taken him in."

"You can't trust them," spat Moody. "You saw what that Rosier tried to pull. Or perhaps you didn't. Frank and I were there. You can't trust a Death Eater, Caradoc. They don't play nice."

"What would he have done?" retorted Caradoc.

"Stolen your own wand, taken Marlene's off her dead body, summoned the Dark Lord by who knows what," Sirius burst out.

He hadn't mean to upset Caradoc, but he had- though it was probably the truth. "This useless killing!" he cried. "The McKinnons despised it! Couldn't we have spared him on their behalf?"

"If they'd have known what that scum was going to do to them, I'm sure they would have been whistling a different tune!" Moody growled. "WHY are you defending that dirtbag?"

"Let's go," Frank suddenly said. While Sirius had been watching Wilke's death, he had brought in the McKinnon children and laid them beside their mother under the sheet. He looked tenderly down at them for a moment and then spoke sharply again. "I already Flooed St. Mungo's; they'll have the mortuary department come down and take care of it." His voice softened, "There's no need to guard here anymore. There's nothing left for the Death Eaters to do, and I'm sure they suspect we'll show up here. We might as well all go on home. I want . . . I want to see Neville."

Sirius patted Frank's shoulder. This was certainly a wake-up call. Sirius was very glad he knew Harry was in safe hands.

Sirius did not stay to listen to Moody explain his calm take on the situation. Driving home on his motorbike through the night air, he wasn't thinking again and found himself somewhere he had gone for ages out of habit- but hadn't meant to go to at all.

As he whizzed by it, it popped out of nowhere, simply because Sirius, out of habit, thought in his mind, "I live at 12 Grimmauld Place." It came out of his subconscious, ingrained as a sort of Pavlovian response from years of coming home to it.

Tonight, Sirius slammed on his brakes and stopped in front of the massive house that had just materialized in front of him. He didn't want to be sitting out in front of it in the night air, yet here he was. There was the same door, the same knocker, the same walkway and gate. It was horribly strikingly reminiscent of the night he had run away from home; he had turned back in the night for one last glimpse of the door to the terrible house, knowing that inside his parents would wake up soon but not soon enough to catch him. That hours later they would disown him as he had already disowned them, blasting his name symbolically from the family tree. He wouldn't find out until school began that fall, when Regulus told him in gory detail. Sirius had laughed in his face and told him he'd had a grand summer, the best of his life, and he was sure Regulus would make a better heir than him anyhow. That was the last time he had really spoken to Regulus until a few weeks before he had found out he had died.

Coming upon his old house so soon after the McKinnons' murder forced him to recognize what he had felt so familiar in the presence of the Death Eaters. It was the trace of a spell- traces of dark spells, the lingering aura of destruction and hate. The aura of Unforgivable Curses, or even decent spells used in the wrong way. Of Stinging Hexes turned into childhood disciplinary measures, the threat of noxious potions in the case of disobedience, the constant inculcation of pureblood superiority. The elitist mind set, the Dark Arts tradition, the idea that evil was a part of not only culture but society itself. That family face was more important than family love.

The stench went away, drained from his memory as he left for Hogwarts. In Gryffindor, there had been no dank dungeons or remnants of the old families. He had escaped it, and it faded from him. He was no longer dark. His home wasn't home anymore. His parents forced the darkness back on him, but he had seen the light and couldn't go back. The stench of old spells and old ways was that of decay and rot, of old unhealthy blood. He was clean from it. It had never faded from those of his family who had remained in Slytherin. The dank dungeons sunk the rot in deeper. Sirius saw it with painful consciousness as Narcissa, younger than he at Sorting and once forgiving of his Gryffindor membership, grew to hate him for it. As Bellatrix fell from beauty to the hollow sharpness of fanaticism. As Regulus stopped defending him and grew to encourage his parents' wrath as he was proclaimed the ideal son. As Sirius faded slowly from the Black family, dragging the Ravenclaws Alphard and Andromeda out of the dank soon after- for only they, in their non-Slytherin house, had escaped the all-consuming power with him. The others hadn't been able to escape, and Sirius almost pitied them. Wilkes, Rosier, Malfoy- even his own brother- they simply hadn't been able to escape what surrounded them. They couldn't clean it away as they remained wallowing in it. Their only fault was that they had never bothered to realize that they were basking in the filth that would someday kill them.

The house was empty. Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa were all married and long gone, two to dark manors in the same likeness, one to pure light as Sirius had. Now even Regulus was gone. There was no young generation of Blacks, merely an old couple, decaying, waiting to rot away like the rest of the house. There was no future, only decomposing past.

And there stood Sirius, with no future as far as he could tell. It was a tragic puzzle, how well he fit. Yet, as uncertain as his future was, he knew one thing only: He was not meant to return to that house. It would rot away, even if he had to rot himself far from it, before he was forced to face what the darkness inside had wanted him to become. His parents had had a future for him, an arranged marriage, a fortune, a mind set, a name. He couldn't take any without taking all, and he wanted none of it besides.

With a sigh, Sirius revved his motorbike up again. He rose into the air, the chilly September night wind blowing his hair harshly from his face, and the house slipped back between the homogenous apartments of the streets as he soared away.

Thanks to all that reviewed! (And how's that for feeling a bit sorrier for Regulus? Lol . . . )

TBC . . .


	8. October 1980

_I do not own anything related to Harry Potter._

Millicent Bagnold was beginning to consider retirement. Though nothing had been announced, candidates were already beginning to rise out of the woodwork. The two most notable were Augustus Rookwood and Bartemius Crouch, Sr. Both were running on extremely opposite platforms. There was a third party, a Cornelius Fudge, who worked in the emergency spell reversal squad, but no one expected such an unknown neophyte to make any showing at all.

"Rookwood can't be serious," Lucius scoffed as he read his copy of the Daily Prophet over breakfast. "He's got no political skill at all. He should have left it to me."

"You for Minister of Magic?" Narcissa peered up, surprised, over the piece of toast she was buttering.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Of course not. As soon as I'm elected, the position would go over to the Dark Lord, of course. It's all part of our plan, see? If we run the Ministry . . . well, we run everything. None of this nonsense about blackmailing people into doing what needs to be done. We can just rid the Ministry of bad elements and then carry on."

Narcissa nodded blankly, still buttering the toast. "Do you even understand, Narcissa?" Lucius scowled. "And . . . not so much butter, there. You're going to gain weight."

Narcissa fixed him with an icy glare. "I'm eating for two, Lucius. I'm quite entitled to gain weight while carrying a child."

Lucius took a swig of coffee and turned the pages of his newspaper. "Well, feed the Malfoy heir something a little more wholesome than butter and toast."

Narcissa's lips tightened and she did not speak as she set the toast down and took an egg instead. Lucius went on with his morning commentary, supposedly conversing with Narcissa as she stood silent, thinking about other things. "If Crouch wins, however, that will be the end of our line. The radical wants to end pureblood society, even things out. He hasn't said it yet, but I know it. He plans to confiscate our manors and ransack our titles and probably redistribute it all out to the Mudbloods. He claims our hierarchy is wrong. What is he complaining about, anyway? He's from a fine enough family."

Narcissa nibbled her egg, thinking to herself that it probably meant something if the privileged even complained. She set her fork down, pondering this, but her mind was not on it and it clattered to the floor. Her stomach gave a loud rumble and she leaned to pick it up again.

"Narcissa! What in Merlin's name- DOBBY!" Lucius slammed his fist on the table. The house elf came scampering in. Lucius ordered him to fetch Narcissa a clean fork and then salvage the old. Then he turned back and scolded Narcissa, "I'll not have you stooping to gather things off the floor. Honestly, if even we can't hold on to decency, who can? We've got a house elf- and you had an elf back home, too. Surely you can't tell me you haven't been raised on it."

Narcissa continued to hold her tongue. Dobby returned with the new, clean fork. Then, with a bang, a being arrived by Apparition, their body appearing in the middle of a small service table tucked in the side corner of the Malfoy dining room.

Bellatrix toppled over with the table and shouted when she realized she was stuck in the center of it. "AGGHHH! Narcissa, what did you move this here for? I've been Apparating into this same corner for the past year! You know I do!"

Narcissa turned away, biting her lip subtly and trying not to laugh. That was precisely why she had done it.

"Bellatrix, you really ought to pay attention to where you Apparate to. Isn't that what the test is all about, anyway? You're lucky you weren't splinched." Narcissa turned calmly back towards Bellatrix, who was still writhing on the floor, fumbling to pull her wand from within her robes.

Bellatrix quickly uttered a spell that made the table melt away from her waist and legs, and stood up. "Narcissa, really, that wasn't funny. I come here every day for business, and silly pranks are unappreciated. You're as immature as that blood traitor."

Lucius's eyes flashed and he whipped out his wand. Bellatrix stepped back, but then resumed her sangfroid and smirked. "Lucius, I'm allowed to tease my own little sister. You need not defend your family honor on one of the only who appreciate it."

"You've got enough in your family to insult without insulting the one decent one left," Lucius said coldly.

This time Bellatrix's eyes flashed. "He who lives in a glass house should not throw stones," she said. "Now, we ought to get to the Ministry. Rookwood needs a little help with his . . . eh . . . campaign," she grinned evilly.

Lucius sighed and whisked his wand over himself, his robes swishing into dressier attire fit for the Ministry visit. He stood, and, with a snap, he and Bellatrix were gone.

Dobby had started clearing the table. Spitefully, Narcissa snatched the pat of butter from the table and with her finger scooped a large dollop of it into her mouth. It tasted slimey and flavorless, but she forced herself to swallow. Then, with a sigh, she conjured up a new service table- this time away from Bellatrix's named corner- and left the dining room.

The house was barren and silent; she, Dobby, and the unborn baby were the only living souls inside. Narcissa strolled along the halls and corridors of the giant manor, longing not for company. It was like this every day. The house itself was old and proud, the roots of ancient pure blood that had remained steadfast for years- yet Narcissa could see the occasional crack in the wood or creaky stair. She pressed her hand to some of the intricate Slytherinesque designs in the wood on the doors and gazed up at the chadeliers and carved ceilings. Her hands passed over both thick green velvet drapes and newver lacey curtains framing windows, and the walls varied between ancient stone and delicate paper. Some of the newer things were so delicate, pale and pure and silent, like herself. It was an odd contrast: the thick wood and stone of age beneath the frills and daintiness of the new.

Having nothing to attend to as Dobby took care of all the cleaning, she slid into the Malfoy library. Her eyes scanned over the rows and rows of books- most of which she had read out of pure boredom, while her husband condescendingly suspecting she did not understand. She did understand, and she appreciated the beauty of some of them- something her husband had never looked for. Every single book was by a wizard or witch; Lucius did not allow Muggle books in the house. It was an unwritten rule, of course, for he never suspected Narcissa would have any desire to read one.

She snapped her fingers and a book appeared from out of midair. She had kept it hidden, disappeared, always- ever since she had been a girl. "Gone With the Wind," it was called. She had first encountered it when she walked in on her sister Andromeda reading it, when the two of them were on summer holiday, back in their schoolgirl days. Andromeda had been caught reading Muggle books before, and she was warned by her parents not to, so when Narcisaa stumbled into her room and interrupted the secret session, Andromeda pleaded with her not to tell. Narcissa asked what the book could possibly be about; what could be so taboo about Muggle books? Did they indoctrinate? If her parents were frightened of Andromeda's reading them, they couldn't simply be stupid, could they? So Andromeda explained: The book took place in a Muggle society that had been extinguished nearly one hundred years ago- a society not unlike their pureblood wizard society. There were strict hierarchical rules, and a few old distinguished families monopolized nearly everything. The age was that of elegance, frivolity, and waste, rooted in old tradition. Andromeda said that the story was a romance, but behind it all was the darker story of a dying way of life. She had asked Narcissa if she though the old wizard ways would die out, too- because this Muggle society had been challenged by newer ideas of equality and its refusal to submit was its undoing.

The entire thought had scared Narcissa so; she had been so comfortable in the elite world of her family, and now her own sister, also comfortable, was suggesting that not only would the old ways die out, they were meant to. The Muggle book was dangerous. Narcissa was still pondering on this when Bellatrix entered the room. She took one look at the book and ran out to tell on Andromeda; Andromeda chased after her. Narcissa, more out of fear of being labeled an accomplice than anything else, had hidden the book. She would save her sister from the terrible notions presented in the book. Relieving her from the wrath of her parents was only a second thought.

She uncovered it again when gathering her things to move into the Malfoy manor. Now able to do more than physically hide it, she put a spell on it so that only she could retrieve it, by pulling it seemingly out of thin air. She had read it through, and quite enjoyed it. The story appealed to her, full of romance and tragedy, and she cried unashamedly at the emotional parts- for she was alone in the manor for hours at a time and had nothing to worry about. Yet it still haunted her, the death of that Muggle civilization. As different as she had always envisioned Muggles to be, the book made it quite clear that they were the same in the most fundamental ways- they loved and lost, and they clung to their old familiarities. Perhaps Andromeda had been right. In that case, Lucius was just fighting nobly for a lost cause.

Narcissa wondered if she should stop reading and worrying about what was inevitable. Her mother and aunt had never sat around alone in the house when their husbands were away. They held tea parties for their female friends or brewed up fantastic concoctions to entertain themselves. Surely the other lonely wives of Death Eaters like her husband needed company just as much as she. Besides, Lucius expected her to be the proper sociable wife. She had to live up to his expectations; it was the way. She sat at the little writing desk in the library and began to write out invitations. The stationary was white and brittle, her quill strokes airy and flourished, her words polite and old-fashioned.

_TBC . . ._


	9. November 1980

_I do not own Harry Potter._

_(By the way, if you're reading this as a new chapter, the chapter before it is new, too)_

Bartemius Crouch, Sr. was on the warpath.

Incensed by the late murder of the McKinnons and aroused further by the prospects of facing a well-supported (due to blackmail and internal Death Eater support), he upped his hunting system. He became frustrated with the Order's inability to capture, alive, any single Death Eater.

"You gave us the orders to kill," Moody pointed out as Crouch went on a rant one day in his office.

"Only when necessary! I gave you the PRIVILEGE, not the absolute command! Use judgment, Alastor!"

Mr. Crouch went home every night and complained about this to his wife and son, who listened tolerantly. Barty Jr. was working nights at a small restaurant in Diagon Alley, as he told his family, and though his mother knew this wasn't true, his father had never even bothered to ask the name of the restaurant, let alone check to see if it existed. His mother was too scared to ask what he was up to, but she suspected the worst: gangs, drugs, carousels with prostitutes, perhaps even involvement with the cult-like Death Eaters. She saw his tatoo on his arm one day, but said nothing to her husband; she let herself believe that her son was simply being rebellious.

In truth, of course, he did Death Eater business every night. Since he was still fresh with curses, many of his evenings were spent learning the Dark Arts that had been banned in his Hogwarts years. He wished he had learned these sort of things back in school; he would have paid so much more attention. He could perform Cruciatus with nearly the proficiency of Bellatrix- even she approved of it enough to allow him to come with her on her nighttime haunts. He was decent at the Imperius Curse, though he didn't enjoy it nearly as much as the more brutal torturing and murdering curses. Lately, he and Peter Pettigrew, the other Dark Arts-lacking Death Eater (Regulus had once made their study group three, but things being as they were . . . ), were being taught by Travers a particularly useful branch of Avada Kedevra. It erupted the body into bits, leaving no trace large enough to provide recognition- very useful when killing Order members.

"It's good you're not in the confounded Order," the older Crouch snapped to his son one day at dinner. "They're worthless. Haven't caught a single soul yet- and I hear they could have had Wilkes but chose to kill him instead. We need INFORMATION, dammit, not just death tolls!"

"One less Death Eater on the street is one less person to terrorize people, though, eh, Dad?" Barty smirked.

"Yes, and one Death Eater before us in the Wizengamot is about 12 heads on the block if we use the proper methods," Mr. Crouch retorted mockingly.

"Like what?" Barty blinked, but spoke innocently.

"Oh, Merlin, anything . . . dementors, time in Azkaban before the trial . . . they'll crack under all our eyes, too."

"You wouldn't ever . . . torture them, would you?"

"Like they've done their enemies?" Mr. Crouch laughed cruelly. "They deserve it, but no. If I were caught torturing Death Eaters, Rookwood would win all out."

"What's so bad about Rookwood, anyway, Dad?"

"All the purebloods support him. He's for pureblood superiority. He's trying to get the votes of those Death Eaters out there."

"We're pureblood; what does it matter if he wins? He can't do anything to us."

Mr. Crouch frowned. "I told you this years ago, when you were first sorted into Slytherin . . . we, in our family, don't consider ourselves any better than the rest. Clearly, you've forgotten that. So we've got a pure wizard bloodline back to the 1500s. WHO CARES?" He hit the table, suddenly growing violent. Barty watched him warily. "I know you've spent your schooldays in league with a bunch of elitist snits who only care about their family, but I've got compassion, darn it! People aren't worthless just because they've got Muggle blood. Even Muggles aren't worthless!"

Barty continued to stare silently. His father was compassionate, he had said . . . he certainly could see the compassion. "What do you think the Death Eaters are fighting for?" he asked, feigning innocent curiosity.

'They're fighting to get legal permission to hurt people. It's rubbish. It's absolute rubbish. They're lawless terrorists who want to be able to be nasty and evil without being punished by law."

Barty felt himself shaking. "Did you ever consider that perhaps they're fighting for a way of life? It's not just about torturing Muggles, Dad. It's about an ancient tradition of Dark Arts. It's about the old way of life, the old proud families. It's their right to practice that, isn't it?"

Mr. Crouch frowned. "Not at the expense of others' lives."

"Keep in mind, Dad, that back in the Middle Ages, these Muggles would have burned you for having powers. And you want to spare them?"

"What are you on about?" Mr. Crouch's voice was suddenly harsh and raspy. "Why on bloody earth are you defending the scum I hunt every day?"

"Because you're not showing COMPASSION," said Barty silkily.

Something erupted out of Mr. Crouch's wand, which was underneath his hand, pressed flat against the table. Blue and silver sparks shot out towards Barty's eyes. He flinched. His father lifted his wand, calmed again. "Sorry about that; lost my temper." He looked at the clock on the wall. "Merlin, I'm late for the Order meeting; I'm supposed to brief them on some new code, meeting over in Hogsmeade . . . ought to yell at the lot of them, too . . . "

He rose and left. "Shouldn't you be off to work, too?" Mrs. Crouch asked her son.

"Yeah . . . yeah, I'm off to work," Barty seized his black cape- Mrs. Crouch fretted in her mind that he must be going through a rebellious phase to dress so- and dashed to the mantle.

He Flooed quickly to the Malfoy manor. "Lucius!" he called, stepping out from the fireplace and tracking soot all over the marble floor. Narcissa looked up from her reading place and quickly snapped the book into the air. She stood as Lucius came dashing into the room, wearing fancy green dress robes.

"Merlin, what is it, Crouch?" he snapped, adjusting his cufflinks.

"There's an Order meeting tonight. In Hogsmeade."

"Don't they always do it at Hogwarts?"

"No, this time they're not . . . my dad's briefing them on something. If we get there fast, we could catch a lot of them."

"You idiot, we can't take all of them at once. They're not weak wizards, you know."

"Then get the Lestranges and Mulciber and Nott!"

"Dear boy, I was off for a campaign dinner with Rookwood, I can't just go off galloping around Hogsmeade, trying to find what might not even be there."

Barty frowned, but turned and went out. Narcissa went over to her husband and took his arm. "I'm invited, too, aren't I?" she asked delicately.

"Of course. Get something nicer on- and try to hide that belly."

Bartemius saw red. He Flooed to the Hog's Head and came stampeding out, but no one seemed to notice. He dashed out into the chilled November air. The Order of the Phoenix had to be meeting nearby, but Lucius was right; he couldn't take on all of them. Besides, if his dad were there, he would be sure to be recognized.

Suddenly, he slammed into another body. He jerked back, but then looked up into the face of a young man carrying several papers and a few boxes labeled "Secret: Hexed, do not open." Bartemius frowned at him, but the man spoke first. "Oh! Young Barty . . . are you here for the meeting, too? Do you have any idea where it is? I'm so used to just popping over to Dumbledore's . . ."

Bartemius just stared at him. The man babbled on. "I hear your dad's got some new policies for us to try. That ought to be nice; I hope he revokes the Auror killing license, it seems so cruel, don't you think? Your dad's a wonder, helping us out this much. He really ought to just straight-up join- but I know, he doesn't want to lose the votes of the Death Eater population. How about that, eh? Hates them all, but still wants them to vote for him." The man simply didn't shut up. Barty watched him, calculatingly. "Say, you haven't considered joining yourself, have you, Barty? We could use more young sorts like you in the Order. Or are you worried about dying too young? Heavens know I am . . . I'd love to just settle down and have a family, but I can't have a family, I say, until the world's safe and fit to be lived in. So I'm fixing up society with the Order now- as I love to say it- and then I'll be able to- "

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Bartemius shouted. The young man's eyes widened, and the boxes dropped from his hands. A ray of green light zipped out of Barty's wand and flew into the man's chest. He stood erect for a moment, but then suddenly his entire figure exploded. Barty closed his eyes, but even then, the green light reached under his lids.

When he opened them, the wet ground was splattered with bits of the man and his papers. Barty looked around at them, hardly believing he had done such madness. He hadn't expected that power to come from him. He felt so proud of himself. He started laughing- laughing and laughing, throwing his head back and absolutely shouting.

"I shut him up!" he chortled. Then he clapped his hand over his mouth and sped away, cape rippling out behind him. He'd go tell Lucius what he'd done, how he'd taken care of an Order member on his own, while the rest of them danced and made merry, oblivious.

Benjy Fenwick was not discovered until the Order of the Phoenix meeting was over. Mr. Crouch, who was chatting fervently with James Potter about the possibility of catching a Death Eater to bring the others to justice, nearly stepped on him.

"What is that?" he asked, prodding a piece of skin with a foot.

"It's . . . " James took one look at the spilled boxes, spattered with blood, on the ground before them. "Merlin, it's Benjy! He never showed up for the meeting, and this . . . this is his work!" He shuddered deeply. "I can't believe they'd do this right under our noses."

"They probably did it as a warning," spat Mr. Crouch. "But oh, when I catch the madman who did this . . ."

_(Thanks to everybody who reviewed!!!)_

_TBC . . ._


	10. December 1980

_I do not own Harry Potter._

The snow outside Godric's Hollow was falling fast. Lily and James were snug inside, however. It was Christmas Eve, and neither of them could remember one more beautiful. Harry, now almost 6 months old, was curled up in a cradle magically rocking by the fire. There were three stockings hung from the mantle. James and Lily were curled together on the couch, watching the snow fly outside their large sitting-room window.

"It's so funny to think that no one can see in such a big window," laughed Lily quietly, in care of the baby.

"Do you think we would see them if they were looking right in, their nose pressed up against it, unable to see us? I think I would laugh and make faces," James said. To prove his point, he thumbed his nose and stuck out his tongue at the street outside.

Lily burst out laughing but covered her mouth with her hands, converting a loud chuckle into an ungraceful snort.

James scooted away from her, eying her suspiciously, teasing her, "This can't be MY wife. I would never marry a woman who snorts."

Lily shoved him under the blanket. "Right, 'Prongs,'" she laughed. James looked up and pretended to run his hands through his hair as he used to when he was young- and vain.

"Not so handsome now, am I?" he lamented. "At least I've still got all my hair. Can't say the same for Peter, though, poor fellow."

"What are you talking about? I'm the one who's gained thirty pounds."

"And given birth. I've got no excuse."

Lily pulled him back over to her, tousling the blanket. "Ack! That's cold! Pull that back up!" he shouted.

"Shhh! Shhh! You'll wake the baby!" Lily clapped her hands over his mouth. She pulled him even closer to her. "And you know I can warm you up without help from any old blanket."

The two of them were silent as they embraced for a few minutes, the snow still falling, the fire still crackling.

"We're still such children, you know that, right?" Lily said after a moment. "How is Harry ever going to grow up to be a functioning human with nuts like us for parents?"

"He'll grow up to be a nut. There's nothing wrong with that. Say, you want to sleep in here tonight? Just . . . just to be like kids again? Wake up on Christmas morning, with all the lights . . . "

"Alright," said Lily, laying her head against his shoulder. "Good night, James. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Lily. You too, Harry," James jerked his head towards the sleeping boy.

Across town, in another well-hidden house, Narcissa was setting up for the midnight Christmas dinner that was a strict tradition 12 Grimmauld Place. She had persuaded Lucius to abandon any grand party at the Malfoy manor and had returned home to prepare for one of the only things that had stayed the same since her childhood.

Yet it wasn't the same. It was only Bellatrix and her left of the children, though both of them brought husbands to the table. Andromeda had been absent for three Christmases, Sirius for five. Now even Regulus was gone. There were no children at the table, either; even if Regulus was still with them, he had graduated and would have no longer have been treated like a child. Narcissa patted her bulging belly, knowing that, with a bit of luck, next year there would be the laughter of babies again. She wished Bellatrix had gotten a start on her family; she had been married for much longer and had not yet produced an heir for the Lestranges. It must have been rather disappointing for the family. Bellatrix was still working for pureblood society- she claimed it was for the good of their society and that she would not rest to raise a family until she could be sure her brood will grow up in a proper world- but Narcissa thought that by delaying domestic life she was undermining their "way of life" just as much as the pro-Muggle-borns. After all, that was what was expected of her.

The festivities of the evening went on with forced jollity but dampened spirits beneath. At midnight, however, the feast ended with a snap- that of Apparition. Lucius, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus had all been called to the Dark Lord's side for a midnight meeting- at Christmas, of all days.

Narcissa stood up, drawn past annoyance and into desperation. She had been clinging feebly to that memory of Christmas, and she wanted it badly, like a little child. However, she sat down as soon as she stood, and renewed eating her slowly chilling turkey. She said nothing.

At the Tonks household, there was another Black feast going on- for the rejects. Andromeda had Nymphadora dressed in a lovely red dress, and the child had insisted on turning her skin green for the occasion. Ted brought over his Gobstone set and played Sirius in several rounds as Andromeda attempted to imitate the meal they would have had if they were back in their childhood home. Sirius wished she wouldn't put so much pressure on herself; he hardly actually missed the fancy dinner with too much turkey and mince pies that made his stomach heave. Christmas- or anything with his family- wasn't particularly a happy memory for him, but he respected Andromeda's nostalgia. It was a pity, though, he thought, that she was dreadfully clumsy and spilled more wassail than she made into cups, and the pie turned out lopsided.

Sirius had a pretend duel with Nymphadora with some peppermint sticks and wondered if maybe someday he would ever get married and have children. James had already started; wasn't it about time he did, too? Then he remembered what Remus had said about growing up. He forced the idea from his mind, as if to spite Remus.

After Nymphdora nearly caught Sirius's hair on fire- her wizard powers were beginning to show; she had gotten too excited- Andromeda took her up in her arms. "We'd better get to bed. Don't want to be awake when Santa gets here!"

Nymphadora laughed and forced her face into that of Santa Claus's. Then her head snapped down on her shoulders- she had fallen fast asleep, still with a white beard.

"She works herself too hard with those transformations," Ted chuckled.

"Well, it takes a lot of energy to change forms," said Sirius, as if he knew- which he, of course, did.

"I'm sure it must," yawned Andromeda. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to get Nymphadora to bed- and off myself, too. You're welcome to stay the night, Sirius. Ted can conjure you up a bed."

"Thanks," said Sirius. "Merry Christmas," he added, as Ted joined his wife and child on the way up to their rooms. Sirius stretched out on the cot- Ted had been too tired to arrange anything more elaborate- and gazed out at the stars, wishing he was back with James for one of those Christmases he had stayed with him. Those were the days . . .

Mr. Crouch was still at the Ministry at 2 am Christmas morning. He had been on the phone for the past half-hour with the man in charge of wizard connections in the Muggle government. In order to get Christmas off for most of the Ministry workers, he had to put in a lot of extra time himself.

"We're putting up a high terror alert for our policemen, alright?" the Muggle had told Crouch. "We figure if there's to be any action of this terrorist group of yours, it would be on one our holidays."

Crouch was nonplused. "Your holidays? What? Why's that?"

"Well, because you're all devil-worshipers, right? We figure that would be the best time to do it."

"Sir, we celebrate Christmas, too. We're not wizards because of our religious views; it's based solely on powers allotted at birth. Most of those involved with the terrorist organization, the Death Eaters, will be at home with their families, just as your citizens will be."

"Really?" The man sounded genuinely shocked. "Well, I'll be darned . . . we'll call it off, then!"

Mr. Crouch hung up the phone and shook his head. He had been at the Ministry since 8:00 that morning, and he was dead tired- and he hadn't even gotten all his Christmas shopping done. The Ministry was empty except for one guard- Dorcas Meadowes, the Order of the Phoenix member who had volunteered to watch on Christmas. She was Jewish and said it didn't matter to her what she did Christmas Eve.

"Merry Christmas, Barty," she wished Crouch as he left, sweeping his cloak around him and recalling Ebenezer Scrooge. "I'll keep good watch on the place."

"Right," replied Crouch. "Any idea what one gets for a 19-year-old son at 2 in the morning on Christmas?"

Dorcas whistled. "A little late, are we?"

"A bit," Crouch shrugged it off. "Well, good-bye."

Severus Snape and Peter Pettigrew- the Death Eaters without large families and celebrations to hold them up on Christmas Eve- were the first to arrive at the meeting. The Dark Lord was pacing impatiently; he seemed tenser than usual.

Bartemius Crouch, Jr. was somewhat quick as well. He had been asleep, having no grand parties, but, having none, also had no distraction from the pain in his arm. As he swept from the house, he noticed through his mother's open bedroom door that his father was not even home yet. Stopping briefly downstairs, he saw that there were no presents under the tree- only the empty stocking he and his mother had hung earlier. "Pathetic," he had scoffed at them. He took his father's down and threw it into the fireplace, where flames erupted. Though there was a fire going, he Apparated.

The others showed faithfully, though. The Dark Lord drew them around.

"Christmas," he said. "The Ministry will be empty."

"My dad's still there," Barty grouched. "He wasn't at my house."

"But how skilled is your father at defense?" asked Rodolphus.

Barty understood.

"Whatever the case, there will be limited guards. We can enter the Ministry and do many things . . . Rookwood, you can now retrieve that prophecy that you have been dancing about with for some time now; no one will see us so I may enter to assist. Others- sabotage. Sabotage anything and everything pro-Muggle-born. Let it be a statement. Let them know we do not play nicely with their silly laws."

A select party alone was sent. Since there would be no need for the expertise of torture and human control, Bellatrix, Mulciber, and Travers were denied their trip this time. Bellatrix did not mind, however, staying in the circle of Death Eaters; her sister's party had grown dull.

Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, and Augustus Rookwood, having the greatest knowledge of the Ministry, were the chosen for this affair. "And I," the Dark Lord continued, "shall come, as well, seeing as how I am needed to lift my prophecy."

Lucius went straight for the sabotage, knowing just what laws were pending that were to his distaste and having knowledge of their whereabouts. Rookwood went first for the prophecy, prepared to signal his master when he was near.

It was then he encountered Dorcas, who had stood watch at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries, the most important, dangerous, and coveted branch of the Ministry. "Ho!" she shouted at the man in the black hood.

"Stupefy!" he shouted. Yet Dorcas blocked it. However, Rookwood did not even notice; he sped full onwards towards the door.

She crept behind him. She was curious as to what these Death Eaters wanted; if she killed him now, she would never know. The information, as Crouch had said, was worth as many as 12 Death Eaters. Still, with great caution, she called for backup. With a special spell the Order had mastered, she spoke into her wand, knowing that any other Order member sleeping near his wand would hear. "I need backup. Department of Mysteries."

Rookwood seized the prophecy and shot a sign into the air from his wand. "Morsmordre!" he shouted. The Dark Mark floated up . . . and a silky black column of smoke appeared and formed itself into a man.

Lord Voldemort turned and saw Dorcas.

"Fool, you brought me right into the face of a guard!" he tilted his wand to the side and shot Crucio, without speech, at Rookwood, who dissolved on the floor in screams. The wand moved to Dorcas.

She had spent months preparing for this. Since her friend Marlene had died she only increased the pressure on herself. One day, she would have to fight a Death Eater. Yet now, here she was, fighting Lord Voldemort himself.

She hadn't prepared for this.

"Avada Kedavra!" Lord Voldemort cried.

"Protego!" Dorcas cried, in her desperation forgetting that there was no way to block such a spell. She fell and landed in a heap beneath the Dark Mark.

Sirius sat uprightly awake. His wand was talking to him.

Remus rolled over in his bed and seized his own wand. Department of Mysteries . . .

James and Lily sat up and bumped heads together, the noise from their wands and the shouts of their surprise and pain enough to wake Harry and send him into a crying fit.

. Fabian and Gideon Prewett stopped eating candy canes at their mother's house and seized their wands. Edgar Bones pulled his from his belt as he put up the tree, sending it toppling over onto his sister Amelia. Caradoc Dearborn dropped his carton of eggnog and left it spilling all over the floor as he got the message ran out Emmaline Vance pulled on a shawl and a pair of boots very quickly and dashed out into the falling snow. Hestia Jones Apparated instantly. Alice and Frank Longbottom looked at each other and Alice nodded to him; she would stay with the baby.

Rookwood let the Dark Lord further and further into the Department of Mysteries, past Time, past the tub of brains, all the way to the end, to the 97th door.

They were successful; the Dark Lord reached for the prophecy. "Excellent . . . my own Christmas present . . . "

"Stop!"

The Dark Lord turned, saw, the hoard of Order of the Phoenix members, and vanished into thin air, taking Rookwood with him. There was nothing left of them but the fallen prophecy.

"He's gone . . . "

"And look, he got Dorcas!"

The disappointed Order surrounded their fallen companion's body. "A hero!" Caradoc sobbed. "Filthy devil killed you, completely out of balance . . . no one could stand to that alone."

TBC . . . Thanks to ye o faithful reviewers! I love you! You do so much for my self-esteem!


	11. January 1981

_I do not own Harry Potter._

Since Regulus's death 6th months ago, the Dark Lord had been tighter in his attentions to his Death Eaters and their potential inside sources. Bellatrix had reported to him Regulus's moment of traitorism, and he suspected many might fall on the same path. He commanded his followers to keep their marks concealed at all times, even to each other, to never speak, even in passing, on Death Eater business outside of the meeting circle, and to even keep their hoods up so that they could not recognize each other- so if one became a spy, the names could not be reported. He was particularly suspicious of those with bloodtraitor relations, like Bartemius Crouch, Jr., or Peter Pettigrew, who had been a Gryffindor.

Bartemius sensed the distrust and, in indignation, only worked harder to prove his worth to his master. He worked hard at his spells, and started prying through his dad's business to gather information that might be of use to the Dark Lord. Peter, too, as well as continuing his spying business, worked hard on improving his only mediocre magical abilities. He discovered, however, to his surprise, that he was more gifted than he had imagined; back in school he had only been lazy, for his friends had always done the work for him.

The real spy walked free.

Severus Snape had worked very hard to keep from appearing suspicious, and it had worked. The Death Eaters he had formerly gone to school with could vie that he was very loyal to the cause. They had seen his fascination with the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, how he got top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts and would plead with the teachers to let him look at Dark Arts books in the Restricted Section under the pretense of "studying what I should be learning to defend myself from" and instead only practicing illicit hexes and ignoring their counters. He had been personally persecuted by many of the Order's members during his schooldays, and the grudges he bore then still remained firm in his photographic memory that was of such good use to him in his studies. He also possessed an enthusiasm peculiar to his class.

Severus Snape was not from a reputable pureblood family. The Snapes were not rich, and had not been of high title in centuries- perhaps back in the medieval Muggle-Wizard wars, but not since. In the latest generation, things had only gotten worse. Severus's parents- who had been married in the usual customary matched marriage- did not get along, nor did they attempt to. It possibly had something to do with the Snape residence not being as extensive as the Lestranges' or Malfoys' or Blacks', so the two couldn't simply live as if separate. No- Severus's earliest memories were of their rows, and, one, most vivid, of the day his father walked out, leaving him alone with his mother. He convinced himself that Septimus Snape had committed suicide, since he never wrote- and he didn't want to believe his own father had truly abandoned him.

This left him in a very awkward position. In the conservative pureblood society, single and working women were frowned upon. Though marriages were often unhappy, only the degenerate actually separated. It was a reflection of Mrs. Snape's bad character that her husband had left her. No one in high pureblood society would offer her a job- and it was shame enough that she needed one- so she was reduced to humbling herself and asking for work from the bloodtraitor families and Muggle-born offspring, the very types she had looked down her high-bridged nose at earlier in her life. They, of course, were not very pitying.

The other purebloods in Slytherin knew Severus's circumstances, and he was embarrassed about them. He had only one comfort- that he was pureblood, and in Slytherin. He may have been the dregs of pureblood society, poor with a single mother, but at least he was pureblood. The Potters, the Bones, even the Weasleys, were richer than the Snapes, but they had remained true to their pureblooded line and were therefore superior.

So, when he had first joined the Death Eaters, Severus's motives had been highly pure. He was not in it to preserve a manor as Lucius or Rodolphus might, he was in it for the pure glorification of pure blood. He was seeking the superiority he had never felt, even in his own House- teased for his poor background- or anywhere in the school- where he was teased for his greasiness and hooked nose.

No one ever suspected such a vengeful, intent follower would spring betrayal.

Yet something had happened to Severus after he joined up. He had been tormented in all different fashions, so it made perfect sense he wanted revenge. However, his group only tormented others. They would want revenge, and, if his side lost, he would only face his fears again. The cycle had to stop. He realized the Order wasn't anti-pureblood- it was anti-prejudice. He could belong, and stop the elitism.

Besides, pure blood really didn't matter all that much to him. It had just been his one semblance of superiority. It didn't bother him that there were Muggle-borns in the school. Marrying into them stopped the cycle of inbreeding becoming too common in the diminishing pureblood families. He had even considered it himself once. Everyone knew, of course, about his small crush on Lily Evans. It had embarrassed her, and she married James Potter, so it was over, but Severus couldn't rid himself of fondness for her. He hadn't expected anything to come of it. He had been defensive even in his schooldays, refusing to admit he would tolerate it. In truth, he did fully. He tolerated everyone- all of his pureblooded elitism was fake. He was more of the Order mindset.

The awkward part was getting out of the Death Eaters.

He couldn't do it, of course, so he kept up his brainwashed, propaganda-fed front. He was devoted, he wanted to kill James Potter and Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, first for bullying him in school, then for going the step further and wanting to corrupt his pure blood. He wanted to kill that trampy Lily Evans, the Muggle-born who had seduced him, trying to corrupt his bloodline. He wanted reparations for the dishonored Snape line, which had been diminished by the entry of Muggle-borns into their world.

In the end, he had even gotten past his feelings for James- at least enough to save his son. It was he who had tipped Dumbledore off when the Death Eaters had discovered the prophecy. It had disgusted him, helping out his greatest enemy, and he wondering if he was doing the right thing, risking everything he had gained for one he hated most, but then he remembered that the child was also Lily's.

At least now the worst was over.

Severus returned repeatedly to Dumbledore's office under the pretense of interviewing for a position as teacher in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The present teacher was considering retirement, so it was not suspicious in the least. The Dark Lord supported it, of course; if Severus worked in Hogwarts, the last guarded frontier would be his. He could infiltrate his greatest enemy's own territory, and Severus could indoctrinate the students with Dark Arts and pro-pureblood propaganda instead of the syllabus.

Secretly, Severus hoped he could get the position. He presently had no job, and, unlike the rest of the Death Eaters, had no great estate to lean back on. With his Dark Arts expertise, he could teach the children very valuable information. Just in case, he also applied for the Potions post, for he had received an O on his Potions OWL and was the top placer in the Potions NEWT format. That, however, was simply because he needed the job.

"I've finished my application," Severus handed Dumbledore the paper the day it was due in January. He handed it over to him and said softly. "Look into Mulciber in the McKinnon case. He always worked closely with Wilkes."

"You need not speak so softly, Severus," Dumbledore said accommodatingly. "My office is very well-protected."

"So is the Department of Mysteries, but the Dark Lord has managed to enter it twice."

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Yes, but there is no one else working here. Unless Fawkes bears some odd loyalty to his tail feathers that might permit him to return to Lord Voldemort." Severus shuddered at the sound of the name, but then stiffened, trying to hide that he had.

Fawkes, as if in response, arched his neck and poked his scarlet beak into his back feathers. Then, very purposefully, he plucked the longest one out and took a step towards Dumbledore, peering up at him expectantly, willing him to take it.

Dumbledore did, but very slowly. "How very peculiar," he whispered, marveling at the red feather between his fingers. He looked up and noted Severus's confused expression. "As you may very well know, through the information I have given you about the Order and the nature of phoenixes . . . a phoenix will only offer its feathers once for wand-making. It must offer a single feather to a wizard once, and it must be offered- to take a feather is to destroy its magical properties. They rarely- if not ever- offer two." He looked up through his half-moon spectacles at Severus, "And you know well he has already given one." He turned back to Fawkes. "You're sure about this?"

Fawkes cocked his head to the side and shrieked in reassurance.

"Very well," replied Dumbledore, as if he understood. He laid the feather down on the table. "I'll have that sent into Ollivander's. No doubt he'll find it positively intriguing." He folded his hands, back to business. "Mulciber? Ah, I believe we have his two daughters here at Hogwarts presently. Do you really think it wise, Severus, to submit his name to the Aurors, when you know what they will do to him? I can't see Medea and Gwendolyn being too keen on their studies if their father were murdered. Pity, this war, the way it's gone. I believe we ought to leave Mr. Mulciber alone, unless he takes further action, for his daughters' sake."

Severus raised his eyebrows, but did not reply. Dumbledore considered personal repercussions much more closely than the average Order member.

There was a knock at the door. "I better go," Severus said quietly. He lifted his volume, just in case it was a child of a Death Eater- such as Medea or Gwendolyn- and spoke again. "So you'll look that over, then? I'll return in three weeks for the next step of the interview."

He opened the door to go out and found himself nearly blockaded by a sea of red-headed children. Molly Weasley stood at the fore, an infant boy with a shock of red hair in her arms. Around the woman's waist was wound a length of red cord, which, attached on either end, trailing behind, were twin redheaded boys about three years of age, busying themselves with poking one another's noses. A pensive five-year-old watched them disapprovingly. The two eldest, one looking about eight or nine and the other Hogwarts age, stood in furthest back, chatting about the amazing ceiling in the Great Hall.

Severus sidestepped around them, watching them carefully. The twins looked up at him, and one noticed his large nose and began to chortle, covering his own so his brother could stop poking it. Severus frowned and continued towards the stairs.

"Sorry I had to bring all the children," Molly Weasley apologized. "Arthur had work, after all. I came about the financial support . . . ?" she trailed off, blushing a little.

"Of course, of course. Bring everyone in. I daresay they'll find something to amuse themselves," Dumbledore beckoned all eight inside.

The nine-year-old and five-year-old took off for the gleaming silver instruments, and the twins attempted to follow, each only receiving a great tug at their waists when their ropes did not reach. They commenced tugging at them unsuccessfully. One finally removed his shoe and flung it at his older brother in frustration. He missed, and lost his shoe.

"Bill Weasley?" Dumbledore asked the oldest. The oldest boy came forward proudly. "You'll be starting the fall? You'll do fine, I'm sure." He looked up at Mrs. Weasley. "Hogwarts is able to take in plenty of children on reduced tuition, due to the plentiful donations we get from some families."

Molly sighed, "They probably give it you hoping it will bribe you to keep out people like us, not fund our way through school."

"Well, if I didn't, who would I give it to? I can't think of anyone more deserving."

Molly blushed again. "Oh, Ron, don't do that!"

The boy in her arms had leaned down towards the desk and snatched up the bright phoenix feather. He now had it in his mouth, sucking on it like a lollipop.

Dumbledore smiled. "Oh, quite alright. I've never heard of baby spit having an adverse effects on wand quality."

_Sorry, that just gives me a big kick . . . Harry's wand has Ron's spit in it . . ._

_Thank you, thank you, thank you to everybody that's reviewed! Even more thanks to everybody that reviews more than once! I like you devoted readers! Glows_

_TBC . . . _


	12. February 1981

_I do not own Harry Potter._  
  
Since Christmas, nothing exciting had happened at the Malfoy manor. Narcissa read a bit, hosted a bit, and prepared the room for the baby. She even experimented with cooking a little, though Dobby was perfectly capable, and kept her disappointment to herself when Lucius raged at the elf for ruining dinner– never knowing it was his own wife's gourmet.  
  
Yet excitement was due. Narcissa had been feeling the child inside her stirring for some time. She had pleasant fantasies of what the day would be like when it came: She would gracefully seize her belly, Lucius there beside her, and breathe out, "It's time." He would take her to the bedroom and call the mediwitch, who would Apparate immediately to the house for such an important call. The baby would come quickly and easily, and everyone would fawn over the beautiful child, boy or girl. Lucius would chose the name if it were a boy; she, if it were a girl. In keeping with Black tradition– even if only on the maternal side– the child would be named for a star or constellation. However, as Narcissa acknowledged this, she realized she herself had not even been named so. It was atrophy of the tradition; she would resurrect it.  
  
However, she was alone when she started feeling the heaves of her contractions. They were much more violent than she had imagined– she had counted upon gentle vibrations, not too distant from the occasion kick she felt from the baby. Instead, she felt violent lurches that rocked her thin body to the point she could barely stand it and feared she might be sick.  
  
Her fantasy completely broke with her water.  
  
She saw the mess on the floor and nearly fainted; she went over and laid on the davenport, screaming feebly for Dobby. Lucius was gone– he was gone so often now, how could she have expected him to have been by? He was all the way at the Ministry. She needed help, and now. Lucius wouldn't know what to do.  
  
Her mind scanned the options as she gazed up at the stone ceiling, wishing that, in all her luxury, she was not alone. Her aunt was far too old to have to deal with birthing. Bellatrix, having started nothing towards family, would have no idea. Labor was a subject too personal to bring to the attention of anyone else, and she wouldn't have it.  
  
It struck her. The one person she associated most with pregnancy. In fact, the last time she had seen her she had been with child– and that was quite the reason it was the last.  
  
She still remembered Andromeda's face as she packed her things, accepting her fate calmly and without complaint . . . the sad way she was seen out the door, her head bowed, her parents' faces cold. Narcissa had watched her in silence that day, understood that she was not to speak to her. Andromeda's belly had bulged slightly, growing with the seed of the Muggle-born she had told no one in the family she loved– until it came out all too clearly.  
  
"Dobby!" she rasped, feeling herself lurch once more. "Fetch me . . . ink, paper . . . owl!" She pressed her hand to her middle and tried to concentrate on breathing. It was straining her frail figure; sweat adhered messed curls of hair to her forehead, and her green velvet dress hung limply in wet folds around her thin legs.  
  
Dobby scurried to the rescue, understanding that this was not the time to waste time. Narcissa scrawled out an urgent message and bid the elf send it. He did, and she fell back again, nearly ready to faint, her breathing too shallow to be helpful.  
  
Andromeda was in the middle of the messy hours of motherhood, making Nymphadora lunch as the toddler prodded her leg with a chopstick, pretending to be "healing" it as she played wizard doctor. She had just wrestled the girl into her chair before her peanut butter and jelly when the elegant snowy owl flew in her window. Nymphadora laughed and turned her hair white to match.  
  
She read the letter with cynicism; Narcissa, she had expected, would never require her assistance. A blood traitor like Andromeda was the last person she would want bringing her pure baby into the world. In case of a ruse, she summoned for the neighbor witch to watch over Nymphadora while she went alone and well-armed.  
  
Andromeda was ushered inside by Dobby as soon as she arrived, and the minute she saw Narcissa sprawled in her state on the green silk davenport, she understood.  
  
"'Meda," Narcissa breathed, "I'm so glad you're here . . . "  
  
Andromeda did not say anything, but helped straighten Narcissa out on the couch. "Are you sure you want to do it here? It's going to get awfully messy. Don't you have a bed somewhere?"  
  
"The birthing room, silly." Narcissa tried to laugh, but little came out.  
  
Her sister sighed and performed the Mobilius Charm. It took so much effort, with keeping her hoisted over stairs and through yards and yards of hallway– and a few missed turns– that Andromeda was nearly as tired as Narcissa when the mother-to-be was safely in bed.  
  
"Birthing rooms," Andromeda scoffed. "I'd forgotten all about birthing rooms." She remembered the Black version of the room from her childhood, but only vaguely, as she had only been present at the births of three family members: Sirius, Narcissa, and Regulus– and at ages one, two, and three, respectively. Her present house had only one bedroom, which was so much more efficient and practical. It lacked romance, certainly, but at least if she were ever to require mobilizing to a bed, no one would get lost.  
  
Narcissa smiled feebly.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy isn't around, I see?" Andromeda observed, still coldly. She sent Dobby for some water and a towel, which he went for without even questioning his mistress first. When he returned, she took over, bidding he find Lucius Malfoy as fast as he could, by any means necessary.  
  
"Lucius hasn't been around often. He's been–"Narcissa caught herself, "–working."  
  
Andromeda bit her lip. "With a place like this, I wouldn't think you would have to work." She felt a slight bitterness rise up inside of her, infused with nostalgia and a long-lost but never forgotten longing for home. She could have been the wife of the lord of a manor, and have such luxury.  
  
Yet then, she thought, her bitterness melting and softening, she wouldn't have had Ted and Nymphodora. She'd rather have had Nymphodora to a man she loved in her own humble bed than some unloved child to a society man in a grand room specially laid aside for that purpose.  
  
"Well, it's more of a society function," said Narcissa lightly, punctuating with a contraction that made her squeeze her eyes shut in pain. "He's working for the campaign, you know . . . "  
  
"Yes," Andromeda agreed. She hadn't been very keen on politics lately; Rookwood and Malfoy were too pro-pureblood, but on the other hand, Crouch was too anti-pro-pureblood. Nobody seemed to have a middle ground. Maybe she would vote for that neophyte Fudge fellow, just for a statement against the other two. "Oh, Merlin, Narcissa . . . breathe!" She sighed in exasperation. "Hasn't anyone ever taught you the right way to breathe?"  
  
"No . . . "Narcissa whined.  
  
Andromeda felt her irritation melt. Narcissa was still just her little sister– prettier than she, with her stunning golden hair, perfect figure, flawless skin, but still so weak, with her tiny body that looked as if it could barely carry a child. Andromeda had always been tiny, too, but next to Narcissa, she felt downright huge. She was much more built for motherhood. Narcissa, she worried, might find it dangerous.  
  
"I hope you're going to be able to do this," she said. "It's going to be hard work; you're so small."  
  
Narcissa damned Lucius in her head for refusing her that butter.  
  
The labor went on. Andromeda wiped Narcissa's forehead as she worked, and, as the baby finally came, nearly two hours later, was the first to hold him, wrapping the tiny thing in a bundle of blankets.  
  
"It's a he," Andromeda announced, as the new being screamed bloody murder. "You've got your heir; you don't ever have to do that again if you don't want to," she laughed. Then she passed the baby to the mother, patting her sore ears.  
  
Just in time, Lucius Malfoy Apparated. The women could hear him downstairs, coming up to the room. He entered, his hair tousled and his chest heaving.  
  
"Tough job, campaigning, isn't it?" Andromeda mused.  
  
Lucius narrowed his eyes. He recognized her; she was the disowned blood traitor– one of an astounding amount from the Blacks. His eyes shifted to Narcissa on the bed. She turned the baby to see him.  
  
"Name, Lucius?" she asked, not wanting to concern him with Andromeda. "It's a boy," she added proudly.  
  
Lucius furrowed his eyebrows. The baby was still red-faced, and, though the screams had died down, he was crying away as if he found the world the most miserable existence imaginable. "Why hasn't he got any hair?" Lucius demanded to know.  
  
"Well . . . "Narcissa bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "Seeing as we're both blond, he's apt to be blond, too–"  
  
"He's not bloody blond, he's bald."  
  
"He'll grow hair later. You looked the same way when you were born, I'm sure," Narcissa explained.  
  
Andromeda snorted. "You did, too, Cissa, I remember."  
  
Narcissa blushed slightly; having anyone think of her– or even recall her– as in any way ugly simply did not work for her.  
  
"Draco," said Lucius, after a second. "That's a constellation and a good, dignified name." He looked back to Andromeda. "And . . . Mrs . . . "  
  
"Tonks," said Andromeda, back to her coldness. "Narcissa summoned me here, as I was the only one available who knew anything about childbirth. But, as I'm done, I think I'll be on my way now . . . "  
  
She Apparated before either of the Malfoys could argue she stay– not that she expected it. It had been a nice diversion for the afternoon, briefly seeing her sister once again. They had even had a couple moments of what felt like sisterhood– or at least an echo of it. Lucius was still as cold as ever, and she knew she could never expect Narcissa to welcome her back with open arms– but, well, she had seen the baby, seen it first, in fact, and it was undeniable there was a connection fused there.  
  
Narcissa fell asleep almost straight away, and Lucius didn't bother to move her from the room. Draco cried and carried on for several hours, and, wondering why Narcissa had been so careless as to forget to call a nanny, sat with the boy on the edge of the bed, trying feebly to console him.  
  
Lucius had been completing yet another step in his master's rise to power. He had spent several hours in the Department of Mysteries with express permission from the Minister herself, only to do what he hadn't been given permission to do. The prophecy with which the Dark Lord was so concerned had not yet been sorted into its slot, and was still capable of being taken. He wondered why no one had thought of it before, before the Dark Lord himself showed up in the room to take it himself as was the expected requirement. He managed to move it easily– so easily it was almost pathetic.  
  
Remus Lupin had told Caradoc Dearborn a long time ago about the list of signatories he had been so close to back in office. Since it would be too obvious what Remus was looking for, Caradoc offered to seek out the old file at the Ministry building, undercover as doing campaign work for Fudge– as any Death Eaters he encountered unawares would be too suspicious.  
  
Caradoc assumed that Augustus Rookwood, having served in the department above Remus, would probably hold a copy of the file. He didn't expect that Augustus would have any qualms about giving it to him as a copy.  
  
He was wrong.  
  
Caradoc knocked on the door to Augustus's office in the bowels of the Ministry building, only a floor above the actual department, which was closed to all who did not work there. The door came open, however, and so Caradoc stepped inside. He saw two figures- one Augustus, and the other one well-known but whom Caradoc had never met before. He was tall, tan, blond, and muscular, a definite looker, but it took Caradoc a moment to realize who he was in good robes without his broom and Quidditch uniform: Ludo Bagman. Ludo grinned at Caradoc but then turned back to Augustus, who seemed tense and urgent. He had not noticed Caradoc's entrance.  
  
"I'm telling you, that's all I know," Ludo shrugged, apparently having just explained something to Augustus.  
  
Augustus pressed his hands hard into his desk so that his knuckles clenced white. "Ahh, Ludo, you're going to have to be more helpful than that . . . if you want to work under me in the Ministry you have to learn to be a little more . . . well . . . informative. Couldn't you have . . . have done something more . . . to get it out of him?"  
  
Ludo looked worried about this failure, but he snorted. "What did you want me to do, torture them?"  
  
Augustus opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, "Ludo, dear boy, your father was always so helpful to me, and I really do thank you for going through all this trouble. But I really do need to know. Are you completely positive they don't remember at all? You know the rules about prophecies; only the witnesses can recall- and the other witnesses are in either no position to tell us, or have told us all they know. We really need to know this," he leaned forward, his eyes boring into Ludo's.  
  
Ludo backed off, grinning casually, obviously not as serious as Augustus. "All this over a lousy label for one of a million silver orbs. Augustus, you need a hobby." He scooped a briefcase- a very unwonted prop for Ludo- and walked out.  
  
Caradoc came forward. "Excuse me, Mr. Rookwood- I couldn't help overhearing. Perhaps if you told me the witnesses of this prophecy you're referring to, I could help you," he offered. Then he added compassionately, "Those labels must really be a bother."  
  
Augustus looked confused for a moment, and then said quickly, "Ah, yes, they are. You see, eh, we can't recall the Seer that administered this one, and we must have their name, for labeling purposes. But . . . sir," he eyed Caradoc suspiciously, "this is confidential business you know. Department of Mysteries. Most confidential department in the whole Ministry."  
  
"Oh . . . oh, I'm quite sorry. It's just-" he froze as he saw Augustus fumble with the silver-blue orb he was labeling. Both the witness and the Seer were already labeled. Beneath the initials read the names: "You-Know-Who and ."  
  
Caradoc saw the Seer's name, though."You've already got the Seer. It's there, look," he pointed. "Say, is that the prophecy that-"  
  
Augustus stuffed the prophecy in a drawer. "Firstly, this is confidential, sir! Secondly," his eyes narrowed, "how on earth do YOU know of this prophecy, if WE don't even- " he stopped short.  
  
Caradoca was brimming with curiosity. His heart rate was picking up. He could have sworn that if Augustus had finished his sentence, it would have been about Death Eater ignorance of the prophecy.  
  
Augustus turned away. Caradoc knew he needed to ask for a copy of the old proposal, but something deep within him was shrieking that foul play was at hand. "Why do you have the prophecy out here in your office if they're so valuable? Why don't you label it down in the bowels, where it will be safe? Surely you're not planning on removing it from the Ministry building, are you?"  
  
Augustus stared at him. "You're with the Order of the Phoenix, aren't you?" Caradoc only froze, but that was enough. Augustus shrieked, "Expelliarmus!" and Caradoc's wand flew to his hand. He hexed the door shut and then rounded on Caradoc.  
  
"I told you this was all confidential, do you here? Are you aware that you are flouting Ministry orders?" his voice mocked.  
  
"You're flouting them yourself!" Caradoc retorted, voice breaking.  
  
Augustus suddenly began to laugh, a low, tremulous laugh that grew in intensity until he was practically screaming with mirth. "Very well; perhaps I am. Naive, foolish boy . . . are you so idealistic to believe that the Ministry has suffered no Death Eater infiltration? Did you think that tbis," he held up the very paper that Caradoc had been assigned to seek out, "was your ticket to the ultimate defeat of all evil ever to enter the Ministry? Did you doubt that I, a Ministry member, could even be capable of such corruption? Well, allow me to disillusion you!"  
  
"You can't kill me!" Caradoc shouted. "If you do, everyone will know it was you! They'll be on to you, they'll come and take you away!"  
  
"Foolish again, boy. Do you honestly think I am going to leave your body here to be found?"  
  
"No matter what you do . . . if you kill me, people will know. They'll know something's afoot. They'll trace it to Death Eaters! I'll die a martyr and people will be inspired to drive you out!"  
  
Augustus sighed boredly. "Fine; I would not wish to deny you your hero's dreams in the last moment. Of COURSE they'll find you. They'll know it was me. They'll come and take me away, and they'll realize I almost stole the prophecy. They'll see the paper on my desk and arrest every Death Eater. That's exactly it. AVADA KEDAVRA!"  
  
Caradoc fell to the floor as the green light disintegrated into the air around him. Augustus cooly shredded the paper of signatories. He tucked Caradoc's stolen wand neatly back into Caradoc's own belt. He flicked his own wand over the body, and it disappeared.  
  
"And I think I just won't bother ever pulling that one back out of the air," he chortled to himself.

_TBC . . . Getting close to the end . . . sniff . . . the momentum builds . . . the irony of this story is that we know everything that happens . . . _


End file.
